


An Inconvenient Flame

by HeadintheCloudsForever



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Bulma Briefs/Vegeta Smut, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fights, Genocide, Long, Master/Slave, Mates, Pregnancy, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Sex, Saiyan Culture, Sex, Smut, Super Saiyan, Swearing, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Threats of Violence, True Mates, Vegeta Being an Asshole (Dragon Ball), Vegeta being Vegeta (Dragon Ball), Vegeta is Bad at Feelings (Dragon Ball), War, longfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 08:28:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 16
Words: 114,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29822175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeadintheCloudsForever/pseuds/HeadintheCloudsForever
Summary: AU. Longfic. Bulma is made a slave to Vegeta in exchange for her family’s life. Bulma/Vegeta set in a world of lies, deceit, lust, passion as Bulma sets out to tame the Prince of All Saiyans and discover what it means to love. Rated M.
Relationships: Bulma Briefs/Vegeta
Comments: 67
Kudos: 83





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Obviously, I don't own any of the characters of Dragon Ball/DBZ. This fanfic is purely for entertainment purposes. Dipping my toes into new territory. I've been a longtime fan of DBZ for a while now, especially the pairing Vegeta/Bulma. As dysfunctional as they are and fierce, I do love them, so I'm trying something with this little fic of mine. I hope you enjoy it! This is my first DBZ fic, so I hope it doesn't suck. This will be rated M for mature, containing language, sexual situations, and violence, so if this kind of story isn't your thing, feel free to skip!

**1**

**FRIEZA** eyed the blue-haired young human with a bored, listless look in his eyes. This strange material of beauty seemed to attract the attention of the Saiyans here. Particularly Nappa held a keen interest in the daughter of the founder of some stupid company called Capsule Corp.

Apparently, the woman had put up quite a fight when they'd destroyed her home, had somehow managed to hit Nappa.

What was even _stranger_ , Frieza thought, was how Nappa, given the monkey's insane temper, hadn't killed the bitch where she'd stood for punching his face.

Instead, Nappa had taken a rather unhealthy interest in her and brought her back for 'questioning.'

Frieza couldn't manage to pretend to care. The skies above their heads were dull and grievous, what appeared to be weeny snowflakes upon first glance trickled, though if a careful eye were to look closer, you would see that they were not snowflakes, but ashes.

The barren scorched earth around them lay quiet, for now, it was little more than a graveyard of the unburied dead.

Corpses lay scattered like squashed roaches along the ground. The stupid earthlings who had died, pawns in this game of war, were for the most part already dead and those who were not would soon be as he conquered this fucking pathetic planet for himself and all its inhabitants. Any people who attempted to flee were executed in cold blood with one snap of Frieza's fingers or a flick of his tail.

Frieza let out a haggard-sounding sigh as his tail whiplashed sharply back and forth. He wasn't even sure why he was standing when he could be sitting, though he'd not yet found a throne worthy enough for him to occupy, so for now, he would stand alongside Vegeta.

His sharp sense of hearing perked up upon hearing the young blue-haired woman let out a tiny, muffled noise as the ropes she was bound in chafed at her skin, with Nappa taking too much enjoyment in jerking her forward.

Frieza caught a glimpse of Prince Vegeta stiffening beside him, letting out a long, slow exhale of ire and rage, his hands curling into fists as he kept his arms folded across his broad, muscular chest, sneering evilly at Nappa.

Frieza almost startled upon seeing the strange, unfamiliar look on the insufferable Saiyan Prince's face. Vegeta's face, those chiseled, strong, angular features, met the blue-haired girl's with a critical interest. Frieza had heard more than a few stories of this bitch.

She was the daughter of Dr. Brief, a brilliantly eccentric scientist and some woman named Panchy, but more importantly, the best friend of the Saiyan Kakarrot, or more commonly known by his Earth alias, _Goku_.

His skin crawled, a muscle in his eyelid giving a twitch at even the mention of the Saiyan _monkey's_ name.

It brought to mind unpleasant memories, that which the overlord would really _not_ think about. But Goku was dead, and good fucking riddance to the bastard. Frieza had killed him himself when he had destroyed Namek and then he had come to the lovely planet Earth.

The girl now standing in front of Frieza and the rest was rumored to be one of the smartest women on Earth. Frieza snorted and rolled his eyes, though even he had to admit it, the young woman with the bright blue hair was indeed a vision of loveliness.

In the cold air, he could feel her warmth pulsate, or perhaps the sensation was emanating from her due to the look of shock and rage on her face as they all heard the girl let out a squeak of fear, scrunching her nose in disgust as Nappa gave a particularly harsh tug of the length of rope he was holding onto, enjoying hearing her cry out in pain as the rope's material dug into the skin of her wrists, the beginnings of blood trickling down her hands, staining the earthen floor crimson with her blood.

For a young woman in her late twenties to early thirties, her eyes were sharp and inquisitive, like that of a hawk's, her pale skin like it was cut from the finest pearl, her chest a pleasing convex to look at, Frieza thought.

A tense exhale emanated beside him, coming from Lord Frieza's right. Curious, he cocked his head to the side, sure to face an angry lieutenant whose head was lowered, his thick dark brows knitted together in anger.

The 'Prince of All Saiyans' was unhappy with this arrangement, Frieza sensed. When was this bastard _ever_ happy aside from annihilating planets and killing people?

Frieza stiffened, feeling anger and annoyance rise within his chest as his haphazard tail continued flicking as Nappa came to a halt and shoved the girl forward forcefully, keeping one hand on her shoulder blade hard enough to break it. Frieza was unstirred as he swore he heard a muscle crack. But to the girl's credit, she didn't scream, though it looked like she desperately wanted to.

She gritted her teeth together and narrowed her gaze as she sanguinely lifted her head, daring to meet Frieza's curious gaze, though the overlord and alien were sure that his face remained neutral and quite impassive.

Though Frieza would be lying to himself if he were not at least a little bit impressed by the girl's show of remarkable strength.

 _For an earthling_ , he thought bitterly. Frieza's eyes were listless, dull, and somber as they raked over the blue-haired daughter of Dr. Brief, searching her eyes for any hint that she might try to bolt. None that he could see, which was good enough. He didn't care for humans, though he thought it would truly be a shame to needlessly kill such a pretty thing.

Nappa coughed once to clear his throat as he stood behind the girl, who still remained forced into a kneeling position on her knees in front of Lord Frieza and the rest.

"As promised, Lord Frieza. The bitch put up one hell of a fight. The little cunt hit me with a frying pan, m'lord," he sneered, jerking a finger towards his left eye, which was blackened. Frieza almost laughed at the thought of a woman, and a wretched disgusting human at that, getting one over on the brute. Frieza snorted and looked towards Nappa.

There was disgust in his voice, yes, though a hint of lust as well as Nappa looked at her.

Frieza chuckled sardonically and swirled the crimson red liquid in his glass as he looked down his nose at the young woman. "Did she now?" he drawled lazily. "I find it difficult to believe, Nappa, that you let a _female human_ get one over on you. It's a _disgrace_..."

Nappa nodded eagerly, a little over-eager to please his lord and commander, and as a result, missed the dry sarcasm in Frieza's tone. "Caught the scientist too. Destroyed the weapon he was in the middle of making."

Nappa kept a firm hand on the young woman's shoulder, showing no intentions of moving from his spot. Frieza had always seen the Saiyan compatriot of Vegeta's as a roguish sly cunt with half a pea for a brain.

Nevertheless, he was the only cunt Frieza knew he could trust to bring the scientist's daughter in alive. The bulky Saiyan warrior gave a curt jerk of his head and the wildly protesting figure of the girl's father was brought forth, also bound, and chained in a similar manner to that of his lovely daughter, and in a far worse state than this.

Judging by the hair-raising scream that the young blue-haired woman gave off, she must not have known that Raditz had taken her old father as a hostage. Dr. Brief was looking rather worse for wear, his white hair disheveled, what was left of his glasses a broken mess on the ground as they slid down off the bridge of his nose. The bloke walked like one of those scarecrows more than a man, his skin splotchy and purple rather than pale. Frieza was honestly amazed the old geezer was still alive after what ungodly beating Nappa had given him. He was going to die here for treason and conspiring to build a weapon of mass destruction that was rumored to affect the Saiyans' power source, which was absurd.

Though the earth people had believed in him, more or less. That was as good enough of a death sentence, in Frieza's mind. Unless he would bend the knee and swear his fealty and unswerving loyalty to Frieza here and now. _Well_. Then Frieza would do him the courtesy of removing his wrinkled, wretched _head_ from his body.

Vegeta had been standing alongside Frieza in a guarded and agitated manner, almost somewhat edgily, his patience dwindling with every moment that was wasted. Almost _too_ eager. Vegeta's face struggled to show compassion, or any other emotion other than annoyance, anger, or dark amusement whenever he found something funny.

He looked on the guilty accused and the woman, and Frieza imagined the Prince massacring all these people instead of him to finish their task of conquering this pathetic little planet, as this was one of the last sectors left on the map to put up any sort of resistance.

Raditz stepped forward after glancing towards Frieza for confirmation, who inclined his head in a brief, curt nod, but said nothing, though his message was clear.

 _Proceed_. Raditz nodded in return and turned back towards the old man kneeling alongside his daughter, in the dirt, where the humans rightfully belonged. "By the power vested in us, for the _last_ time, Lord Frieza demands your allegiance if you should want to live. _Kneel_ ," the Saiyan spat, a vein in his neck pulsating visibly.

Dr. Brief spat and spluttered indignantly, gasping, and clutching at a stitch in his side, obviously suffering from a broken rib or two.

"Tell your stupid overlord to come to break my knees _himself_. I'm an old man and I've lived a fulfilling life. It doesn't matter if I die now or later. I don't care. Earth will _never_ belong to the likes of you, _alien_ ," the aging old man snarled quietly. "If I'm to lose my head today, then it would be for _her_ ," he growled, his gaze flitting towards the blue-haired woman. "Spare my daughter if there's even an ounce of mercy in you. Spare her, and I'll tell you where I've hidden the other weapons," Dr. Brief bargained, gritting his teeth in anger.

Frieza shrugged his shoulders. "If that is your wish." Behind him, two others of his soldiers came forth.

" _Wait_!" screamed the woman shrilly as the Saiyan holding a vice grip tightly around her father's frail left arm and started to pull the white-haired aging scientist towards Lord Frieza. " _Please_!" she screamed. "Is there really no other way?" she shouted, sounding near hysteria.

The desperate plea in the human woman's voice gave Prince Vegeta pause. His depleted haughtiness cracked. There was a horrible ringing on his ears and in his head was a fatigued ringing, a tolling of death bells. He began to shiver, his chest constricting and tightening whilst his breaths, escaping his lips as cold puffs of air in front of him, trembled as he looked at her.

The Prince of All Saiyans smirked at the bitch's obvious discomfort, smiling maliciously, his eyelid twitching.

 _Good_. The girl _ought_ to be scared of them all. He did not like _this_ , whatever 'this' was as he met the blue-haired bitch's gaze. The female species, especially on this stupid little insignificant planet, were an enigma to him. But especially _this_ woman. She…she _intrigued_ him. And Vegeta was quick to decide he didn't like it. He had no time for this… unhinging effect that she held on him, whatever was happening, but… He'd _never_ before met a woman capable of landing a solid punch to Nappa before, let alone at his right eye.

Vegeta watched the girl droop her head in defeat and recognition, squeezing her eyes shut as a few of her blue waves cascaded in front of her pretty face like a curtain, shielding whatever expression she currently wore from his line of sight, though there was no disguising the tears that Vegeta caught sight of the wretched tears escaping her lids, running down her pale cheeks in tracts.

As much as he enjoyed the she-stranger suffer, he was also an impatient god, and eager to get this over with.

Vegeta knew Frieza would punish her however he saw fit and then that would be the end of this little farce.

She was guilty of aiding and abetting her father. Of that, Vegeta was absolutely sure. He was positive about this.

Vegeta turned his gaze lazily back towards the insolent piece of shit on her knees in front of him, her head lowered in submission. He allowed himself the brief feeling of gratitude that Nappa had not killed this pretty little earthling when he'd had the chance.

It would make killing her that much more satisfying for the irate Prince.

As she blearily lifted her head and gazed at Vegeta with huge, almond-shaped crystalline pale blue irises, the likes of which he had never seen. She was staring at him, widening in shock as Prince Vegeta gawked right back.

Vegeta blinked and felt his throat start to constrict and close up, just as he had been about to speak to Frieza.

For this creature whom Nappa had managed to grab after a brief scuffle was not at all that the Prince had pictured.

This wasn't some middle-aged bitch with fading greying hair and a weary expression on her lined face, as he had first assumed her to be when Nappa had told him upon their return to their base they'd picked up a woman alongside the 'good doctor and scientist.'

Vegeta had rolled his eyes and laughed, thinking it was the man's wife, an old hag, a wizened crone around the doctor's age. But no. This girl was young, in her late twenties or early thirties, close to his age. No.

She was…she was a beauty, even a bloody fool could see that much for himself.

Whoever she was, she was pale and breathing heavily, her shoulders shaking as she feared for her father. He almost had to stop himself smirking at her little achievement from hitting Nappa squarely in the eye with a frying pan.

Her loose blue hair was nothing special, really, but she reminded Vegeta of a bird in a cage, teeming with life but unable to escape from its hellish barred cage.

There was something of the woman's voice that made Vegeta listen, even as she continued her incessant sobbing and pleading for the Saiyans to show her dad mercy. There was something determined, unfazed, and strong about it.

Vegeta's eyes widened as he realized it. _Strong_. He closed his eyes before looking down his nose at their latest (and prettiest) new prisoner. She was pretty. Blue eyes and blue hair. Blonde might have been better, but this was what it was.

Vegeta paused and looked once more at the feisty young human earthling. No, there was more to her.

The woman was beautiful, in a subtle sort of way. In the kind of way where if one were observant, as he was, you would look twice and see a strong personality and spirit. This was a good thing. It meant she'd survive here.

But it meant it would make it that much more dangerous for the woman. But it made it a possibility.

Sensing she was being observed, the she-stranger narrowed her eyes as she noticed Vegeta staring at her, a look in his darkened eyes that could only be described as a spiteful hatred coupled with the beginnings of a frustrated… _desire_. For _her_.

She swallowed nervously.

Vegeta stared, unblinking. It was those _eyes_ of hers…

She had a pretty face, more than Prince Vegeta had bargained for. It was this realization that caused the Saiyan Prince to decide he would go easy on her. But nevertheless, he could not allow the girl to get away with what she and Dr. Brief had done.

" **STOP**!" Vegeta roared, his breaths coming hard and fast and violent now as he looked towards Raditz.

The other Saiyan was breathing harshly and looking at Prince Vegeta as though to make sure the command he'd just heard uttered really came from him. Raditz's facial muscles hardened, his eyes narrowed. Prince Vegeta could surely nurse the revolt Kakarrot's brother held for him. Not that he gave a shit.

Every inch of the other Saiyan bellowed with begrudging obedience as he looked towards Lord Frieza. Frieza too, Vegeta noticed, was looking… _curious_.

"You're making a mistake, Vegeta." Raditz's teeth chattered in barely controlled anger. "He's to be execu—"

"I _know_ what I said, Raditz. Let the fool _go_." Vegeta's own teeth gnashed together as they clenched.

He could feel the thrum of his heartbeat in his broad chest, electricity coursing through his fingertips which he tried to hide beneath his gloves as he turned to Frieza. Vegeta stifled a low growl of rage bubbling in his chest, wanting nothing more than to pluck out the other Saiyan's eyes and let it be food for the crows on this planet, though he wasn't even sure the birds would want him.

He twisted his head to the side and looked at Frieza.

"The others, they would probably burn her. She seems a sweet girl, but a psycho. Only a _fool_ would _dare_ to hit Nappa, woman," Vegeta barked in a hoarse, rough voice that was the embodiment of a grave.

He didn't see it, though the grating sound of his tone caused the young woman to shiver with gritted teeth, waiting in fearful anticipation for what was to become of her. He looked back towards the woman kneeling on her knees.

A dozen and one inappropriate visual images of this beauty on her knees, on her back, on her stomach, anyway he could take her for himself flitted through the forefront of his mind, though he shoved it aside. That was a distraction he did not want right now.

"Serves you right, woman, and serves your father right too. If the rest of the planet burns, why should we spare _you_? An eye for an eye, isn't that how your stupid Earth saying goes?" he snapped, waiting for her to speak.

The woman lifted her gaze at Vegeta, realizing she was being addressed. She tilted her head, not knowing how to respond, and seemed to favor silence as the only apt response, which only succeeded in infuriating him.

In truth, Vegeta did not know _why_ it was that he had stopped Raditz from taking the old scientist's head.

Vegeta just wanted the humans _gone_. They were annoying and useless except to be subservient to him and all the other Saiyans. And yet…as the girl looked towards her father, a pained expression on her face, a thought came to him.

He could _take_ her. Make her his servant, find an excuse to keep the bitch around, learn more of her strengths, as he had clearly taken an interest in her, as unfamiliar as this was for him to show an interest in a woman like this. At least until Vegeta tired of this one.

Frieza's voice pulled him from his thoughts.

"What _is_ it, Vegeta? Get on with it, I haven't all day," he snapped, and this time, Frieza did sound angered.

"My reward," Vegeta blurted out hoarsely, unsure of where the words were coming from, as it seemed his mouth was no longer taking directions from his mind as he looked towards Frieza, and then back towards the girl and her dad, both of who held an expression of disgust on their faces.

Frieza let out a tired-sounding groan. "What do you _want_ , Vegeta? More titles? Riches? What is it then?"

He paused a moment, wracking his brain wildly for something to say.

"What I want…is something a bit more _special_. What I want…is _her_ ," Prince Vegeta growled, pointing to the woman, taking note of how her ivory complexion paled in shock as a look of anger flitted across her pretty features.

Frieza's expression still remained passive. Vegeta couldn't be sure, he thought as he chewed on the wall of his mouth and waited, but he could swear he saw an expression of glimmering intrigue dart across his eyes.

"The—my daughter is engaged to a man named Yamcha," the wizened old man spat out weakly, angrily.

Vegeta let out a low, rumbling growl from deep within the confines of his burly chest, which succeeded in silencing the man and he shrank down, groping for his daughter who held onto him, seething, but said nothing.

"I wasn't asking if she was engaged," he spat, growing offended at the very idea. "I'm not looking for _love_. I'm looking for a caretaker. To serve me. I want _her_ , Lord Frieza," he growled. " _Just her_. You _owe_ me one." His voice lowered.

The longer Vegeta looked at the blue-haired woman, there was a strange pressure in his chest that seeped warmth throughout his body. It was one of the strangest feelings Vegeta had ever encountered.

He was skeptical of it when he first caught a glimpse of this woman, but he soon came to the understanding what he felt was a good thing. A _good_ feeling. Something he wanted to feel again.

His first urge was to touch the woman who'd managed to nail Nappa's eye and turn it purple with one blow.

This was again a new desire for the Saiyan Prince. He wanted to touch her, to know she was real, to think that it might have been possible that he'd found a strong woman who could serve him, understand his ways. His _needs_ , both physically and mentally, oh, yes.

But even now, Prince Vegeta could not bring himself to touch the girl.

As long as he and she were present among Lord Frieza and the rest of his Saiyans, there was a barrier that was erected between them both. But no matter.

The moment he got her behind closed doors, his new servant woman would be all his.

Frieza quirked a brow in suspicion towards the Saiyan Prince. But Vegeta could tell he had already won.

"You want nothing else?" the alien overlord asked in mild surprise. Frieza sounded disbelieving of his words.

"No." Vegeta nodded quickly, though his mind was screaming at him to touch the young woman, to do anything he could think of to quell the heat scorching between his legs, making it uncomfortable to stand upright.

Ignoring the old scientists' startled cry, he looked towards the woman, desperate to hear her voice for himself.

He sincerely hoped she didn't have an annoying voice that sounded like nails on a chalkboard. He cringed.

"Stand up," Vegeta barked roughly. She obliged, though not without shooting him a truly withering look. "Your name, woman. What is it?" Vegeta growled irately.

She did not speak as she scrambled to her feet, though not once did she look at him. Instead, the woman kept her gaze planted firmly on the ground in front of her.

His first guess was to brush it off as fear of him, though with this mysterious creature, Vegeta suspected her intentions were not to give him the satisfaction of seeing her fear, though he almost ached to see it himself. He wanted to see the fear in her eyes, to make it quite plain to this human woman that she was now his. _His_. No one else's.

Vegeta's temper was about to implode and he was just about to throw something in anger in response to the prickly woman's silence when her voice spoke up. Not soft and meek, but firm and resolute.

"Bulma," she answered somewhat defensively the moment Vegeta turned his back on her to look at Frieza.

Vegeta felt the beginnings of a smirk tug at his lips. _Of course, it is,_ he thought sarcastically to himself. He began to pace an agitated and restless line in front of her, smartly placing his hands behind his back so as to not give off the appearance of lunging right at her.

"You are _mine_ now, servant woman," he snapped irately, choosing to ignore the look of outrage on her face at being addressed in what she believed to be odious terms. "That means you will never be able to leave my service in exchange for us sparing your wretched father's life here today. If you agree to my terms and conditions, you are bound by a contract to be my servant forever."

"So, I could never see my dad again?" murmured Bulma, her voice softening a bit as she thought it over.

He smirked, though the lady Bulma did not see it.

 _Smart girl_ , Vegeta thought, grateful he wasn't going to have to repeat himself around this one. He really _hated_ saying things a second time.

"Yes. You are not able to leave. Unless I were to grow bored and tire of you and dismiss you from my service, which in your case, would only lead to your father's execution for his crimes against Lord Frieza. Do not let it be said among your kind that Lord Frieza and the rest of us are not _merciful_ , girl…"

"Bulma, _no_! I'm not going to let you do this!"

Bulma turned in the direction of her father's rough voice, grating and gravelly sounding from so many years of smoking those damned cigarettes. He'd been silent so far, intently listening to what the aliens had to say to her.

Except this was taking it entirely too far.

"Daddy," sighed Bulma exasperatedly as she grasped onto her father's hand and gave it a squeeze. "This is the only way to save you and Mom. I'll be fine."

" _No_!" protested Dr. Brief, the tips of his mustache twitching without any prompting as he looked at his daughter in outrage. "Bulma, I'm not going to let you throw away your life for me," he growled indignantly.

"I love you, Daddy," whispered Bulma, her face crestfallen before kissing her father's hand with all the tenderness she could muster before relinquishing her grip and saying, "But this is _my_ choice. No one decides my fate but _me_." Here, she shot Vegeta a withering look that the Saiyan Prince did not react to before turning back to look at her father. "It's not going to be forever. I'll come back."

"Bulma, no!" shouted Dr. Brief as he watched his daughter turn away from him and towards the dark-haired arrogant bastard of a Saiyan Prince. Her father seethed.

Bulma steeled herself and blew out a long, slow exhale before addressing her soon-to-be master. "You will release my father. You will let him go and ensure me of my family and friends' freedom before I go with you."

Vegeta scoffed and shot her an incredulous look of disbelief. Who the bloody hell did this woman think she was? An angel? A saint? Yet, as he searched her eyes, the Prince of All Saiyans found nothing there but strength.

Strength and a steadfast determination. He admired it within the human.

"Very well," barked Vegeta gruffly, still keeping his hands folded behind his back. "Your father is free to leave back to the wretched hole my men found him in, but make no mistake, woman, if you should attempt to flee from me or trick me into letting you, your father and the rest of your family will _die_ , and you'll be forced to watch them _suffer_ because of your stupidity," he growled.

Here, he leaned in so that the tip of his nose was almost touching the girl's slender nose. She flinched at the sudden closeness but did not shirk away nor did the girl revert her gaze. Instead, Bulma narrowed her eyes at him.

Bulma did not mistake the steel in the Saiyan Prince's voice. He did not want any tricks or acts of deception. "I understand," Bulma replied steadily before turning her back on her father as he was dragged away by Nappa and Raditz, not watching as the Saiyans took flight, their captive in their clutches to transport him back home.

Trying to block out her father's screams and pleading voice as his voice faded the further they flew, she let her tears run down her face, thankful they were now indistinguishable from the rain that had begun to fall.

"Forgive me, Daddy. Mom," she whispered in a choked voice. She did not dare let herself look back once.

Bulma did not even have time to react as her new master was not hesitant in taking his latest prize: her. She felt his strong hands grip onto her waist and took flight, taking her to God only knew where to do what with her…

She didn't want to know. Bulma squeezed her eyes shut as her stomach swooped and churned, not letting herself look down and see just how high up in the sky they were, and nor did she let herself look at her master, her captor, the so-called son of a bitch of a prince who had ripped her apart from her family.

Only one thought kept running through her mind as she kept her eyes closed, never once looking at Vegeta or at the sky above her.

_What have I done?_


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I struggled with this next chapter between choosing Bulma's POV and Vegeta's, but went with Bulma's for now for obvious reasons as I wanted Vegeta's thoughts on his 'new servant woman' to remain a mystery for now, though a Vegeta chapter is upcoming next. As for Vegeta's new 'palace,' I tried to think of something that was out of the way for now, but they will eventually be traveling to a few planets later on in the story, but not for a bit yet. :)

**2**

**THEY** landed before Bulma had adequately enough time to process just what the hell she had gotten herself into. She let out a yelp of surprise as they landed on solid ground again, out on the outskirts of who knew where, a hand pressed to her mouth, retching. She hated flying unless it was in one of her dad's Capsule Corp helicopters.

Bulma had always _hated_ it whenever Goku would carry her through the open air. One wrong slip and she'd likely tumble to her death. The feeling of fear she experienced now with this 'Prince' was exactly the same. Almost the moment her new master relinquished his ironclad grip on Bulma's forearm, the strength in her legs left her immediately, causing Bulma to sink to her knees and vomited without even seeing where she was.

Prince Vegeta made a muttering noise of disgust—she had splattered the toe of his neatly polished white leather boots—and said, "Useless woman. Stop heaving, servant girl, and clean that disgusting filth up right now."

He walked away from her without so much as another word, his heels echoing on what sounded like cobblestones, and was gone from Bulma's line of sight.

Bulma didn't know how long she stayed there sunk to the ground on her knees, not caring the dirt or grit dug into her kneecaps. Maybe once she might have given a shit about her outfit getting ruined beyond repair, but not these days. These days, there were far more important things to worry about.

She retched and gagged until only clear liquid was coming up, which was strange because she'd not eaten breakfast or lunch this morning, too preoccupied with helping her father put the finishing touches on his design. She stayed there shakily on her knees until Bulma was sure the contents of her stomach had been purged and wiped at the back of her mouth with her hand, lifting her head to stare and take in the area around her.

Wherever she was, this _definitely_ wasn't West City.

She was currently kneeling on a floor of stone, a walkway path of some kind, and not just any cobblestone. Wherever far-flung dilapidated corner of the earth this mad Saiyan Prince had brought her to, it wasn't any place that Bulma recognized, but the building she stood in front of looked to be an old fortress, a castle of some kind.

It wasn't exactly a ruin, but neither was it complete, either. Bulma could tell as her inquisitive blue eyes made a quick scan of the exterior of the building that parts of it had crumbled away decades ago, probably before Goku had crash-landed on Earth. The battlements on the towers were lichen-covered grey stone, she saw.

She recollected learning about that once in one of her science classes, how the lichen was a pioneer species, it didn't need soil to thrive and flourish. Eight skinny, round towers formed a protective barrier all around the castle and were connected by reinforced, massive walls of dark red stone. Windows were scattered generously across the walls in an asymmetric pattern, along with overhanging crenelations for the archers and artillery in days long past.

A huge gate with great metal doors, a regular bridge, and various abandoned artillery equipment guarded the last strong along this rough shoreline of whatever part of the Earth the stupid Saiyan had brought her, and it seemed to be the only way in and out of here. If you could _make_ it that is…

Bulma bit down on her bottom lip in hesitation and looked to the left and right.

There was nothing nearby that she could use to wipe at the pool of sick, so she'd wound up using the hem of her sweater sleeve, as gross and disgusting as it was for her, it was already dirty anyways. Bulma allowed for a little more time to sit there and let herself be terrified at the precarious position she had more or less agreed to.

Nothing happened. After a few more minutes of continuing to remain kneeling on the cobblestone ground beneath her until her knees screamed for relief, Bulma decided it was safe to get up and look around for a bit. He'd already gone on. No sign of the Saiyan man.

Bulma swallowed heavily as she looked towards the forest that seemed to surround the entire property's perimeters. Maybe she could chance to sneak off at night.

"I wouldn't even consider that an option if I were you," came a deep voice, one she didn't recognize as _his_.

Bulma swerved her head in the direction of the new voice who had spoken, her heart sinking to the pit of her nauseous stomach as she caught sight of Goku's wretched brother— _what was his name_? she thought wildly, biting down on her lip in nervous anticipation of the man.

The tall, dark-haired Saiyan's lips curled upward in a twisted smirk as he was leaning against one of the walls, his arms folded across his broad chest, his dark hair tousled and windswept. She hadn't even heard him land.

How could she not have sensed him?! This one was silent. _Silent_. It unnerved her, causing her shoulders to breaking out in goosebumps. She shivered, but not with cold. Bulma swallowed, her tongue feeling like clay in her mouth. Sneaky shifty bastards, these Saiyans. Well.

Except for Goku and Gohan, of course, but that was beside the point. Goku was presumed dead, and Gohan missing, though Bulma suspected the kid was off training somewhere. He was just like his old man in that regard. She almost smiled at the fleeting vision of her two friends as the memoirs passed in front of her mind, though the moment she heard the Saiyan clear his throat in annoyance, just as quickly as their faces had come, they were gone.

Bulma let out a tired sigh of frustration. She blinked owlishly at Goku's brother, unable to recall his name, though she'd heard Goku and Piccolo talk about him once or twice and had never paid attention to it. She wracked her brain for something to say to this new Saiyan who bore a striking resemblance to Goku, way too much for Bulma's comfort.

"I—I wasn't," she snapped, trying to keep her voice as level as possible and from shaking, feeling a surge of anger begin to well deep within her chest, a fiery heat speckling to her cheeks as the Saiyan stepped off the wall he'd been resting against, taking a guarded step towards Bulma.

She felt her body instinctively stiffen at the unwanted nearness of this Saiyan warrior she didn't know. Just that he'd killed Goku and Piccolo within his first few days of touching down on this planet a while ago, but she was blanking on his name.

"There are _beasts_ in the forest that surrounds Prince Vegeta's new 'home,'" the Saiyan warrior scoffed, rolling his eyes as his gaze followed where Bulma looked. "You wouldn't want one of your pretty little legs to be ripped off while trying to escape, little dove, would you?"

"No," Bulma grumbled flatly. "So, it's a fortress?" she questioned against her better judgment. If she was being honest with herself, she wanted nothing to do with any Saiyan that wasn't Goku or Gohan. _Monsters_ , the lot of them, save for those two, especially this other one.

_The Prince_. Just the thought of the man who had stolen her away from her freedom without really giving her a _choice_ in the matter plastered under her skin, making it crawl. She gritted her teeth in anger and looked away.

To distract herself and as much as to avoid any further conversation with Goku's brother as possible, Bulma looked towards the shadows of the castle and the occasional glimmering specks of light through the crystal windows could be seen. It was admittedly unlike anything Bulma had ever seen before.

Ancient and dated, but exquisite. On one hand, it was beautiful, mysterious, and Gothic with various turrets and parapets of varying sizes sticking out at odd angles. But on the other hand, if Bulma didn't know any better, she might have said it looked somewhat grotesque, like that same fortress that the little, short man, Emperor Pilaf had tried to entrap her in once. _He would have succeeded in his stupid plan too_ , Bulma thought bitterly to herself. _If Goku hadn't gone well, literally apeshit_ , she thought, and almost snorted at that memory.

She stamped that moment of her life to the darkest recesses of her brilliant mind, looking to the left and right for any way out that she could see of this fucking mess. It was not exactly the accommodations that she would have imagined befitting for an egotistical Saiyan Prince, based on what little Bulma did know of Prince Vegeta, which was only snippets of what Goku told her. As she felt the tall Saiyan whose name she still couldn't place nudge beside her, terror seized at her heartstrings.

She noticed too that she found wherever Prince Vegeta had brought her, it was more than a little disturbing to her, but she couldn't quite put her finger on why that was. It seemed almost…otherworldly, in a way. Not of this earth.

_Maybe that's why he picked it_ , Bulma thought to herself, staring transfixed at this abandoned castle that was going to become her new home. Bulma Briefs was so caught up in her absentminded staring of this strange castle in some far-flung forgotten corner of the world that she had not noticed another pair of guards, Saiyans too, by their armor they wore that was strikingly identical to Vegeta's, seemingly arriving out of midair, landing on their feet delicately, making no noise when they did finally land.

At the sound of the Saiyan man speaking, however, Bulma flinched and diverted her gaze back to level ground, where the brand new Saiyans were peering at the Prince's newest servant in curiosity and a look of lust. It was more than a little unnerving and caused bile to rise at the back of her throat, though Bulma swallowed it back down and refused to let them see how nervous she was.

"She's quite _pretty_ , Raditz, isn't she? If you _like_ your women with _blue_ hair, that is, I guess," the shorter Saiyan said in a casual way to the man standing next to Bulma.

Her blue eyes widened in shock upon hearing the stranger addressed. _Raditz, his name is Raditz_ , she thought wildly to herself, filing away this mental note in her mind for later in case she needed to figure out a way to leverage her knowledge in an effort to bargain with _him_ to let her go. Bulma opened her mouth to speak but didn't get a chance as the one whose name she now knew to be Raditz shot her a pointed look, silently warning her not to do it.

"She's our Prince's new servant, boys and off-limits. You'd better mind that fact or you'll find yourself without your manhood on the morrow, you…"

Though Raditz's voice trailed off and his eyes took on a glassy, faraway look as he was interrupted in mid-thought. Bulma's curiosity was piqued.

Intrigued, she leaned up on her tiptoes to try to get a closer look. Raditz's dark brows were knitted together in concentration, his thin, wormy lips pursed tight together. After a moment or two of the taller Saiyan not speaking a word, Raditz seemed to come back into himself and blinked himself out of his stunned stupor.

"Excuse us. Our prince needs 'tending to'. You, servant woman, come with me, little dove, I've been given five minutes to ensure you look presentable enough and show you to your quarters before taking you to your new master, girl,'" he snorted and proceeded to grab Bulma by her forearm before Bulma could scream an obscenity of her own and tell him to get his grubby monkey paws _off_ of her and drag her down the cobblestoned walkway path in front of them that led to the main interior entryway of the huge fortress.

As they slowed to almost a snail's pace once they reached the inside, Raditz looked down at the young human female in the same disapproving manner she had been regarding him and his comrades moments ago.

"Listen to me carefully, woman. I don't give out advice often," he growled lowly, his deep baritone seeming to reverberate off all corners of the walls, "but let me give you a little friendly piece of advice. You're going to have to watch that _tongue_ of yours that must be hung in the middle so it can wag at both ends, bitch, do you hear me? In _your_ culture, you might have been able to get away with your silly little outbursts and being mocked at, but _here_ , as long as you remain within our Prince's servitude, this behavior is looked down upon and seen as treason and you would be killed for such insubordination and slanderous remarks. It would help you to think of your pathetic little _family_ …"

Bulma had a dozen and one angry retorts burning on the tip of her tongue waiting to be spat out at this arrogant prick as her temper threatened to swell to the surface, though she forced herself to will it cool a little.

This Saiyan warrior, Raditz, he was _right_ , damn him, goddamn it, but why did he have to put it in _those_ terms? She bristled, needing a moment to compose herself.

"Yes," Bulma replied coldly, not sparing Raditz so much as a second glance, not seeing how the Saiyan stared at the blue-haired new servant of Prince Vegeta's, shaking his head incredulously.

The blue-haired woman may be clever and intelligent from what little he knew of the doctor's offspring, but that would not do her any good in her new situation. She was going to have to be clever in learning how to manage Prince Vegeta but in a different way. Unfortunately, Raditz was beginning to think that this woman, beautiful though she was, of that there was no denying it, did not have the capacity to handle Vegeta.

He doubted any woman, especially a weak _human_ , could handle the likes of their temperamental and egotistical Prince.

The Saiyan and Bulma turned to head towards a corridor to Raditz's immediate left that would take them to the chambers that Vegeta had prepared for the girl's arrival, though they halted in their footsteps when suddenly, the two of them heard an excruciatingly loud sound that even gave Raditz pause, causing the seasoned Saiyan warrior to stop dead in his tracks and listen to it.

It was a noise that could only be described as that of a wounded animal, roaring at the top of its lungs as it echoed off the interior walls of the old, abandoned fortress that when Prince Vegeta had first discovered this place, had claimed it was the only true establishment worthy of hosting the Prince of All Saiyans and had taken the centuries-old castle for himself, with Frieza's permission.

Raditz stood, his boot heels dug firmly into the cold stone floor beneath their feet as it seemed to vibrate in response to something being smashed on the floor.

One glance out of the corner of his peripherals was more than enough.

The young woman had gone pale and had started to shake upon hearing the ungodly scream. The Prince's comrade turned to stare down the dark corridor, where the doors to Vegeta's quarters remained firmly shut, and from behind which, the hair-raising shout had emanated.

It was only a moment later that Raditz came to the realization the sound had not been that of some unknown Earth creature that Vegeta had killed, but that of their Prince himself. Raditz sighed and shook his head before planting his hand firmly on the woman's shoulder, shoving her forward roughly down the opposite corridor that would take her to her prepared room.

"The Prince doesn't like to be kept _waiting_ , sweetheart. You've got five minutes at best. Now _move_ ," he growled through clenched teeth as his jaw rooted tightly shut, glancing back over his shoulder towards Prince Vegeta's closed door, wondering what the fuck had gotten their Saiyan Prince so riled up this time.

Briefly, Raditz wondered if it was _her_. He allowed a faint smirk to flit across his chiseled, scarred features, thinking how earlier, when Vegeta had stood alongside Frieza, he'd seemed to be rendered unable to take his gaze off of her.

Bulma didn't look behind her once as Raditz opened the door and kicked it wide open with his boot so hard the old thing creaked in its rusted, termite-ridden hinges. Her heart beat strongly in her throat as she poked her head into the doorway of the room before daring to cross the threshold and look around at her new home.

_Not my home_ , she thought angrily to herself, feeling a lump form in her throat as she felt the beginnings of a salty, briny liquid—wretched tears—prick at her vision. _Home_ to her was Capsule Corp. Home was partying at Master Roshi's house with the gang. _Home_ was West City, not… _here_.

This unfamiliar place was never going to be her home and she had to wax and seal that off in her mind right now.

She sniffed once or twice until she felt confident her tears were going to spill over down her cheeks and took in the sight of the simple cot pressed up against the wall, and what looked like a dresser and a trunk, a chest of drawers of sorts, for her…clothes.

Bulma's blue eyes widened as she realized…she didn't _have_ any clean clothes!

A horrible sense of dread and dismay crept its way into the pit of her churning stomach, though before she could turn towards the Prince's comrade and ask the soldier what her new master intended to do about her wardrobe debacle, he spoke up.

"It's time, servant woman," barked Raditz, hovering and lingering in the doorway, though the Saiyan warrior was so stocky and broad in the chest, his entire body filled the span of the doorway, blocking her exit.

Bulma slowly swiveled her head once her eyesight had adjusted to the dimness of her new bedroom and turned to look at Goku's older brother, the Saiyan with the craziness in his eyes, as he offered his bulky arm to her, waiting with an artificially grin plastered on his scarred face.

She scoffed at him, turning her back so the Saiyan monkey wouldn't see Bulma rolling her eyes at Raditz.

"If I could have two minutes to properly change? _Sir_?" She put a heavy emphasis on her use of the word 'sir,' to indicate the mockery in her tone by the way she addressed the Prince's close enough comrade and friend.

From the glint that appeared in Raditz's heavily-lidded and narrowed gaze, Bulma could tell he'd heard it.

Though whether or not he was furious with her remained to be determined, as his face was one of a passive indifference as the Saiyan warrior quickly composed himself, and smiled at her even wider, as though he knew something about her new situation that Bulma did not. She raised her eyebrows in surprise and alarm at the almost amused look on Goku's brother's face, not sure at all she liked the expression of amusement he shot her.

It didn't seem to be a good thing whenever a Saiyan smiled. She shivered and clenched her teeth in ire.

"Of course. We wouldn't want you greeting your new master dressed like… _that_ …" he sneered, gesturing towards her jeans and sweater with the vomit stain on the edge of her sleeve, clearly intended for Bulma as an insult.

This Saiyan's opinion meant less to Bulma than the dirt underneath her pink-painted fingernails. She sneered. "Do you _mind_?" she asked coldly, gesturing towards the door with a frantic waving of her hands. The Saiyan with half a baby-sized pea for a brain looked towards the wooden door, and then back towards Bulma.

His expression morphed into one of feigned surprise as he pretended to realize only just now what Bulma was referring to.

"I'll wait outside. And hurry up." Saying nothing further, he slunk out of the entryway and back into the corridor, leaving the door to Bulma's new bedroom wide open for any pervert to peer into and see her changing clothes if they were a mind to.

She wouldn't put it past any of these monkeys. Savage animals, the lot of them. Bulma groaned exasperatedly in irritation as she quite literally stomped her way across the bedroom and slammed the door shut. It was loud enough the door rattled. _Good_ , Bulma thought meanly, biting down on her bottom lip in anger.

"What a _jerk_ ," she whisper hissed through gritted teeth. "Fucking creep," Bulma snapped, her face paling.

She hoped the force of her door slam rattled his stupid brain in his stupid skull. Bulma couldn't be sure if Goku's brother was just that fucking dumb as a bag of rocks or just an act to spite her and instill fear into her heart. She couldn't be sure yet.

Trying her absolute hardest to ignore the frantic heartbeats pounding relentlessly against their cage of bone and cartilage, Bulma approached the chest of drawers in a cautious, guarded manner. She let herself have a moment to mourn her friends, her previous life. She wiped at her eyes that had started to glisten with unshed moisture that Bulma refused to let them fall, giving her head a curt shake, grinding her teeth in anger.

It was enough. It was bloody enough. It had to be. What she was currently feeling was already too much for the calmness of her calculating and logical mind that was raging like a whirling dervish that she couldn't control. Breathing slowly, in and out through her nose, Bulma managed to come back to some small modicum of peace as she realized that all of her new outfits were the same.

_Uniforms… Oh, no, oh fuck, why me? Don't they know a beautiful girl like myself needs an independent sense of style_? Bulma thought angrily, cringing, and trying not to pull a face of revulsion as she pulled out what looked to be various similar-cut dresses of sorts that caused Bulma's mind to conjure images of Roman women from times long past.

All of them were the same low cut and style, floor-length, flowy, and breezy, with a revealing leg slit up the left sides of the garments. They looked like _togas_. Bulma's blue eyes widened as she realized that's what they were, in various colors, ranging from a beautiful sky-blue to white, even red.

_Maybe it's like a Saiyan women servant thing, this is what they wore on their home planet_? Bulma wondered curiously. She furrowed her thin blue eyebrows in a slight frown as she held the sky-blue one up to her chest and studied her reflection in a full-length hanging mirror hung on the wall on the left side of her new bedroom.

Bulma shrugged out of her clothes, trying to be quick about it, the resounding sound of the Saiyan Prince's yell from a few seconds ago still ringing in her eardrums.

She didn't want to push his buttons any more than she probably already had. Her parents were counting on her, and the rest of her friends, too.

Bulma tried her best not to think as she slid into the robin blue dress that looked suspiciously like a long blue toga the Roman women used to wear, trying not to crinkle her nose in disgust at the savagery of these Saiyan _beasts_. Monsters, every last one.

Bulma focused on regulating her breaths back to normal, on forgetting this time though nothing and no one, especially not the Prince, would let her forget the sacrifice that she had made tonight to save her father. And she was going to have to be compliant, as any resistance was sure to hurt her and her family, besides. But she suspected it wasn't going to bother Prince Vegeta in the slightest. The arrogant brute might even _enjoy_ it.

From what she'd seen of Frieza's men, or at least the Saiyan warriors under Vegeta's command, the animals took morbid pleasure in taking their women by force. Even their rightful wives if they were married at all. Bulma didn't bother to repress the violent shudder that clawed its way down her back at that very idea. If Vegeta touched her in that way, she might just slit her wrists, it didn't matter how handsome the Saiyan was.

She started to run a hairbrush through her hair, fastening most of her shoulder-length wavy blue tresses into a clip that she'd managed to find in her jeans pocket that she'd haphazardly just left lying on the floor the moment she shrugged out of them, putting it up into a half ponytail and letting the rest fall free past her shoulders.

Bulma could only stare at her reflection as she rummaged through her bag, feeling grateful she'd had it on her with those assholes managed to bust into Capsule Corp and totally wreck her home, as she swiped on a fresh coat of a clear lip gloss to emphasize her lips' fullness.

She tried to look the way she wanted. A heart of steel, the decisiveness of a grown-ass woman in her late twenties, about to turn thirty here in another few months. The strength of her father flowing through her veins and the temper of her grandfather.

At least for the next few hours while she sat through the insufferable Saiyan Prince's company, though she hoped he would dismiss her within the first few minutes of meeting him. After one last brush of her hair, she was ready. At least on the outside, though she felt anything but on the inside. She looked like a frightened young woman who had no idea what she'd gotten herself into, and she knew her initial assessment of her overall appearance was right.

_Breathe_ , she thought, peeking over her shoulder as she slid on a pair of strappy sandals that were comfortable at least, casting one last longing look at the mirror. A beautiful young woman scared to the bone of her master.

She was sure the Prince would see that for himself in a few moments, and Bulma couldn't change that fact.

_Breathe_. Bulma ordered herself, staring at her reflection until there was no shred of emotion left in her blue eyes. Normally quite chipper and bright, now the pale blue of her irises had gone dull, listless. Flat. Until she could stand straight and postulate with her head held high, chin jutted out slightly in defiance of this arrogant prick and what Bulma was sure to be stupid rules she was going to have to follow, punishments to be inflicted on her should she dare to think about disobeying her new master.

Bulma stood there in her new attire, her shoulders pulled back, standing tall, hair loose until she stopped shaking. Until Bulma knew she was ready on the inside.

The moment she stepped one foot over the threshold of her bedroom and back out into the corridor of the Saiyans' new fortress, Raditz's rough, calloused hand shot out immediately and wound tightly around her arm.

Hiding her distaste towards the tall Saiyan deeply inside the bottom of her stomach, Bulma saw no choice but to follow him, but that did not mean she was going to take this monster's arm. She wrenched violently out of Goku's brother's grasp and shot him a look of revulsion.

"I can _walk_ by _myself_ , thank you," Bulma sneered gruffly, gingerly rubbing at her wrist, wincing at the red markings already showing on the appendage, clearly finger-shaped, the only evidence of her rough treatment.

"Feisty little bitch, aren't you, woman? Our Prince is just going to _love_ you, sweetheart," Raditz snorted, a slight teasing lilt to an otherwise smooth melodious voice that was the asshole not currently behaving like a jerk, might have made Bulma weak at the knees if she were stupid.

Bulma wished she could so desperately tell Goku's prick of a sibling where he could shove his opinions of her, right up his hairy monkey _ass_ and go drown himself until his lungs filled with water, it was way more than he deserved and a mercy death for killing Goku when he first touched down on Earth's soil, though she quite valued keeping her tongue, and she recognized that tension and discourse to break out on her first night into the Prince's servitude when her family was counting on her to do whatever she could to keep them alive was probably not the smartest course of action to take.

It took all of Bulma's willpower to remain silent.

Raditz looked angered, she could see the shadow of something dark flitting across the Saiyan's face, though thank God, he chose not to comment on it, for which Bulma was grateful. He merely grunted by way of response and motioned with a wave of his arm for Bulma to follow him back in the direction they'd passed earlier.

She looked down at the path in front of her feet, her strappy sandals making an audible clacking sound against the cold cobblestoned floor of this old, abandoned castle that Prince Vegeta had apparently laid claim to.

Raditz was saying something to her, but the rush of roaring blood in her eardrums pounding was too loud for Bulma to make out any of what was being said to her.

Bulma let out a tired sigh of frustration as they paused outside the closed wide double oak doors that were undoubtedly the Saiyan Prince's chambers. If Bulma strained to hear, she thought she could hear him talking.

Though she wasn't able to make out what was being said, if anything at all. For all Bulma knew, the Prince of All Saiyans was probably talking to himself.

Raditz paused, turning to look critically and scathingly towards Bulma, his narrowed gaze assessing her slender but curvaceous form in her new attire. The warrior must have liked what he saw, for he could seemingly find nothing to criticize.

Bulma swallowed down hard past the lump in her throat as Goku's brother got a familiar look of lust and intrigue in his darkened eyes, though she knew that as long as she was under Vegeta's rule and technically his dependent for survival, he would have to be an utter moron and an even bigger idiot with no brain cells to try anything funny with her.

"There is to be no negative talk about the Prince or our Lord Frieza's methods, girl, do you hear me?" Raditz growled in a tone that suggested he was bored and didn't give a goddamn what happened to Bulma one way or another, which made her wonder why the warrior was doling out this piece of advice to her in the first place, but she wasn't about to turn it down. "The same goes for the way the Prince likes things run around here. You must learn quickly and be careful not to let yourself fall behind, and pay attention, little dove, because this is the _only_ time I will repeat myself," he snapped, folding his arms across his broad, muscular chest. "Do I make myself _clear_ , girl?"

Bulma tried to answer, having a response prepared, though her rehearsed answer fled her mind and she opted for a simple incline of her head instead, her gaze somber.

Raditz stared at Bulma in a nebulous manner before rolling his eyes in annoyance and turning his back on her, jerking his thumb over his shoulder towards the door. "Go on in, then. Vegeta is expecting you. _Don't_ keep him waiting."

Bulma replied with a curt nod and a tight smile that felt feigned. She knew it didn't reach her blue eyes. "Thank you," she managed to gasp out, though even her simple statement of gratitude sounded forced. She never thought in her _life_ she would be _thanking_ Goku's murderer—his own _brother_ -ever at all! She sighed.

Bulma squeezed her eyes, steeling herself for the Saiyan Prince's temper to implode the moment she opened the door, expressing his anger and dissatisfaction at her having clearly kept him waiting for longer than he wanted. She noticed she was starting to feel nervous, something that Bulma hadn't anticipated as her slender, clammy hands wound around the door handle and shoved it open, the door creaking slightly to announce her presence.

As Bulma caught sight of the tall dark-haired Saiyan Prince's silhouette standing by the window on the far side of the room as she swung open the door wider to let herself in, Bulma found herself imagining for one awful moment, the warrior's chiseled face so close to hers.

Even closer than when he had inspected her back home—his black eyes cold and glittering like the finest onyx, those fingers like that of hard iron, rough and calloused yes, but deft and nimble at the same time, strangely warm, drawing her dress away from her skin, while he smiled that smug, satisfied smile down at Bulma.

What if all of the insufferable Saiyan Prince were feverish, fiery hot like that, so she would feel him almost glowing like a white-hot ember flame, all over her body, while he lay on her— _NO_! She could not— _would_ not—think of the git in that way. He wasn't worth it.

Bulma blinked and shuddered away from her inappropriate thoughts of her new master—her master—just the thought sent a chill of revulsion down her spine and stepped fully into the threshold and closed the door behind her, not looking back. Bulma drew in a sharp breath and forget to let it out as she stood stock-still in the private room of the Prince.

There _he_ was, by the window, waiting for her. Her future master.

Prince Vegeta, the Prince of All Saiyans.


	3. Chapter 3

**3**

**HE** sensed her before he saw her out of the corner of his peripherals. His new servant. _Bulma Briefs_. Prince Vegeta cringed as he felt his neck sting with the heat at just the declaration of the Woman’s name. When he’d gotten his first good look at her back in that wretched city the humans called West City, kneeling on her knees, head lowered in submission, he’d wanted to claim her and take her right there, to satiate himself at the scent of her flesh that smelled strangely like… _apples_.

To bury his face in the crook of her neck, to bite at her skin and taste her honey-sweet blood, to pour all that he was within this blue-haired human woman. Vegeta closed his eyes for a moment to imagine his servant woman beneath him. Her blue hair disheveled, skin glittering with sweat or blood from where he bit her, it didn’t matter.

When he’d touched her arm, just briefly before picking her up and carrying her off here, it felt as if she had as good as touched Vegeta between his legs, and when he’d parted himself from her, he almost wanted to throw a fit. But he’d managed to keep her scent, that tingling sensation that burned his flaring nostrils of apples and lavender, and it almost drowned the Saiyan Prince insane.

Out of the corner of his peripherals, the brilliant hue of her blue hair was the first thing he saw, letting him know his servant woman had finally arrived and lingered behind the door, seemingly too afraid to approach where he stood. Her hair cascaded in loosely layered waves, ending at just below her shoulders. Her hair was beautiful, but then everything about the Earth woman was. Obviously, or Vegeta wouldn’t have taken her for himself. She wore the sky-blue dress, almost resembling the blue skies of this planet.

He could see the Woman looking around, probably disgusted with him, maybe a little bit awed, he didn’t care.

_You’re mine, Servant Woman. Oh, you’re mine…_

Vegeta was so engrossed in thinking about the blue-haired young woman that he did not give himself a chance to second guess his actions as he turned slightly at the waist to face her. He saw the blood drain from her face as he did so, making the girl’s complexion look even paler and peaky.

“Where have you _been_ , Woman,” snarled the Prince of All Saiyans as he stalked towards the young woman who had more or less piqued his interest the second she’d nailed Nappa, a seasoned warrior, over his eye with a frying pan. “I _called_ for you over five minutes ago,” Vegeta whisper-hissed.

From a distance, the Saiyan Prince looked quite angry, but at such close proximity as he strode across the room towards where Bulma bravely stood standing her ground resolutely, trying her best to mask the fear in her eyes from him, Vegeta swearing he could hear her heartbeats.

It was evident in her wide, brimming blue eyes that she had no doubt seen the murderous look in the Prince’s blue eyes, that she was sure Vegeta would dismiss her tonight.

He had to stop himself from smirking “How _dare_ you to defy your master, Woman, when I specifically told you—” the Prince continued addressing the human earthling in a rough, gruff voice though his voice faltered the moment his gaze slid away from the Woman’s burning blue eyes, currently brimming with fear and a smoldering, fathomless rage, the likes of which he’d not seen in any female before.

Vegeta felt his tongue go thick in his throat as he seemed to take a slight step back and his expression changed from one of a heaving fury to a look of utter astonishment as he quickly took notice of the sky-blue new dress she wore.

The typical attire of subservient Saiyan women back on his home planet of Vegeta. His new servant woman sighed as his dark eyes raked over her slender, curvaceous form in the new dress, a much better sight than the human rags his men had found her in. She did not lift her gaze to acknowledge him. This only stoked Prince Vegeta’s anger and spurred him on even further. “Look at me, woman,” he twisted his head handsomely but impatient and eager to set the ground rules, what he expected of her as his servant.

When still, the stubborn woman refused to look, Vegeta began to grow angry. He gritted his teeth together and balled his shaking hands into fists at his sides. “Your _god_ _commands_ you,” Vegeta growled huskily in a loud voice.

This time, his words were finally enough to inspire a response as she slowly lifted her chin, jutting it out slightly defiantly, and dared to look the Prince of Saiyans in the eyes.

He’d been about to start his speech of what he expected of the Woman now that she was his to do with as he pleased. The usual schtick where he would threaten her, force her to do something, frighten her, if only for his own amusement for a little while, as it pleased him to look at her.

Vegeta had been anticipating seeing fear in those pale blue eyes of hers, but instead, what he found within as she dared not revert her gaze from him was…was…amazement.

Maybe even… _curiosity_. Not in the way that other women of various planets he and his men had visited shortly before purging them clean had looked at him in times past, with fear and perhaps even a little bit of admiration for him. No. This earth woman was looking at him as if Vegeta were some foreign species that she had just discovered for herself, not the Prince of All Saiyans, a deity to this woman.

Any other young woman, alien, human, it didn’t matter, would have most assuredly looked away from his wrathful glower, blushing with embarrassment or even fear, though this earth woman’s gaze was so unyielding and steady.

It was almost as if she could discern what lay just underneath the surface, and yet the Woman did not even flinch at what she saw there. It was unsettling, to say the least.

This Woman who Vegeta had taken was a peculiar creature. Not that the Prince gave this a second thought, for her brushed it aside as a nuanced observation just as quickly as the troublesome thought had implanted itself in his mind. He turned his attention back towards his servant standing in front of him, waiting for her new master to speak.

“You’re late,” he growled, turning away. He expected the Woman to remain silent or stammer out a pitiful excuse for her tardiness, but she did neither of those things. When she spoke up, her voice was loud, resolute. _Strong_. It made Vegeta’s skin crawl, and in a good way.

“ _Obviously_. If your people would have given me more time, I might have been able to look more presentable for you, _my_ _master_ ,” she snapped swiftly and sarcastically, bowing her head once more, though Vegeta suspected it was not out of respect, but a horrible mocking.

She was _toying_ him, playing on him with this new little arrangement of theirs.

Vegeta found this incredibly annoying and distracting, although the Prince couldn’t manage to figure out why it was. “Don’t interrupt me, Woman,” interjected Prince Vegeta, his voice hard as stone and just as gravelly, but measured, cold, and calculating. He did not need to shout, like the other Saiyans under his rule, to command respect.

She said nothing, and this infuriated the Saiyan. The Woman had lowered her pale face, keeping her gaze stubbornly directed towards the cobblestone floor beneath her sandals. As Prince Vegeta stalked his way towards her, he had to stop himself from smirking as he realized she was blushing, a blue curl having tumbled in front of her face.

She’d ducked her head away from him in order to _hide_ it. After a moment of letting her think she was in control, Vegeta lifted his index finger to the girl’s chin and turned her face upwards, but gently, not forcefully. Vegeta was strangely eager to make his new servant woman look at him, something she was purposefully avoiding to spite him.

He was sure of it. But that didn’t matter. He would get what he wanted in the end. The Prince always did. He smirked as he looked into those crystalline blue orbs. “Do you like it?” he murmured lowly, bringing her face closer.

“What?” she exclaimed sourly, pursing her lips, and making a quick scan as he relinquished his grip on her chin.

For a moment, just a split second, Vegeta felt self-conscious as he swallowed thickly down past the lump in his throat. He’d decided to convince himself that he neither looked nor smelled funny. The Prince of All Saiyans marveled at how his new servant woman could be so…so _timid_ at the mere sight of his awesome stature and power.

How much more satisfying then, he decided, when he would ravage himself inside of her. He placed his arms behind him, careful not to have them lunge at the Woman without any prior notice. The blue-haired beauty nervously breathed in and out, wetting her lips with an almost dry tongue, not knowing how it made Vegeta feel the twitch in his armor between his legs. They were a foot away from one another now, and to him, the girl was even prettier up close.

Vegeta felt almost calm and resolute while he waited for the girl to regain control of her voice. He couldn’t stop the smirk that flitted across his features. He seemed to have rendered his new servant woman utterly speechless in his splendor. As he looked at her, the Prince could not even think he could explain away the peace wallowing in his soul.

He didn’t want to either, he was quick to realize. He felt more than slightly frustrated by the fact the Woman wouldn’t look at him, but he would soon fix that. Oh, yes…

“Your new _home_ , Woman, having been brought from your filthy _hovel_ you dared to call your home, you now find yourself undoubtedly fascinated and enthralled by how much pleasure and happiness surround this heaven, where your new _gods_ reside, Woman, yes? I trust that your time as my servant will be… _comfortable_. I will go over your expected duties in a moment, but first, you will tell me how you find this place to your liking,” Vegeta whisper hissed through gritted teeth, doing his best to quell the fiery warmth that had seeped into the pit of his churning stomach the more he drew closer to the beautiful human with the sky-blue eyes and luscious thick wavy hair to match it.

Truly a vision… After a moment of a heavy silence that lingered, almost suffocating, in the air between them, Prince Vegeta expected his new servant woman to nod and smile at him.

But she didn’t do either one of those things. Bulma, if that was _indeed_ the human woman’s name and not an alias, merely proceeded to frown in response to Vegeta’s remark and turned her rather heated gaze towards him as her blue eyes narrowed until they were mere slits, like a snake’s pupils.

When she did speak to her master, her voice was very quiet. So faint, in fact, that Vegeta had lean forward to hear.

“This is no heaven, and you’re not a god, _monkey_ ,” she spat her poisonous words through her gritted teeth.

The Prince of All Saiyans stood, rooted to his spot, completely stunned, and taken aback by the Woman’s answer. He felt his smug expression slide off his face like water falling over rocks, only to be replaced with a look of abject astonishment and shock at what the girl had just said.

And as the Woman stared right back at him, he saw in those smoldering blue eyes a look of satisfaction, and rage, and even...even... _Victory_. He seethed, gnashing his teeth together. This…he could not allow her to get away with her outburst. _No_ _one_ talked to the Prince of All Saiyans in this manner, particularly not some stupid daft earthling _woman_.

Vegeta felt a muscle in his jaw give a spasmodic twitch as he saw red blood behind his eyes as his arm shot out and wound itself around her forearm in a tight, iron grip.

She flinched, though she did not cry out as his fingers squeezed. “You may be a pretty face, Woman, but you’re nothing but a piece of shit. No, you’re lower than that. You’re _my_ servant woman,” he hissed through gritted teeth.

Despite his poisonous words, the Woman did not flinch. She did not even blink. The woman hardened her own expression in response to the Saiyan Prince’s sudden aggressive and hostile behavior towards her, not budging at all.

“If you want to keep your ‘position’ if you can even call it that, you’re going to do as I command, servant woman,” he growled. He jerked his head towards the bed pushed up against the wall on the opposite end of the room that made her shiver, that she had been actively trying to avoid looking at. “You’re going to follow me to the bed where I will command you to take off this dress. You’re going to lie down on the bed and let me do to you whatever I want, Woman.” He smirked at her, speaking as though he were commenting on the weather outside. Vegeta was pleased to see that it had the desired shocking positive effect on the woman because she was currently gaping at him like a fish.

The Woman opened her mouth to speak to him, but no words came out. He noticed this, his smirk widening as he turned his gaze back around to regard his stunned servant.

“Oh, there’s no need to answer me, Woman,” he continued speaking smugly, smirking almost reassuringly. “I can assure you most women would kill to be in your position, that you will enjoy every minute of the act, girl.”

The Woman frowned and gritted her teeth in anger, and before the Prince had any time to respond, she spoke up. “How _dare_ you?!?” she bellowed, finally shoving Vegeta away from her. She shoved his chest, hard and strong. The girl had surprising strength for a human, something the Saiyan Prince had not anticipated, and he stumbled backward. “You might be a Prince among your people, not that it has any bearing or meaning to me! I might have agreed to come with you and be your _servant_ , but you must be out of your mind _insane_ to think I’d _sleep_ with you, no matter _how_ angry I’ve made you! I’d rather quit this place entirely and take my chances back home than _mate_ with you!”

She spat the word ‘mate’ as though it were poison that had settled and lingered on her tongue, shooting him a truly disgusted look as she staggered backward, having to clutch onto a fistful of her long blue dress to avoid tripping over it.

Vegeta stared at his servant woman, and this time, it was the Saiyan Prince who found himself at a loss for words. _She_ must be the insane one, _not_ him. _Never_ him. To put it in layman’s terms, the Prince of All Saiyans had never received such a response from a female before, though he’d never really taken an interest in a woman until this point.

He’d always viewed them as nagging pests, wastes of time that took him away from his ultimate goal to train to be the best that the universe would know. But this was new.

“You’re… _rejecting_ me…” he breathed, utterly shocked at his servant woman’s outburst, fuming, wide-eyed. It took him a moment to recognize the spiraling warmth that started at the tip of his toes and spread all the way to the roots of his wild, disheveled black hair was rage. Vegeta blinked a couple of times and came back to himself, just in time to see his servant woman turn on her heels to go and had started to bolt for the closed room doors.

Bulma felt a vent of adrenaline as she ran to the door, shooting out her hand to latch her slender fingers around the handle, but instead of grabbing onto the door’s handle, her hand came into contact with a solid mass of heat and fabric. She jerked her head to see her new master, that monster, that monkey, glowering down at her as she felt a sharp kick to the back of her hamstrings as Vegeta tripped her. She was yanked away from the door before she could wrench open the door and try to bolt for the safety of her room.

Bulma cried out in surprise, anger, and fear, all of those, as the Saiyan Prince pulled her down towards him and she was sure he was going to kill her for trying to escape. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she felt terror seize her body, her breaths caught in her throat, suffocating her and Bulma somehow managed to flip over onto her back.

Tears leaked from her eyes as she felt his strong, calloused hand-wind itself around the pale column on her throat and squeezed, hard. Hard enough to enforce his intended message.: _Cooperate. Or else_. Bulma shuddered. She didn’t want to know what ‘or else’ meant in this case.

Bulma shivered, gritting her teeth as she looked into Prince Vegeta’s blackened eyes. The very eyes of death itself.

Prince Vegeta grunted as he dropped to his knees the moment he’d dragged her a relatively safe distance away from the doors as he straddled his servant woman’s legs. He took note of her sharp intake of breath as Vegeta hovered over her. His thighs gripped onto her supple lower hips, firmly holding her in place on the floor.

He watched the Woman’s throat tighten and constrict as his fingers wound around her throat, squeezing not hard enough to strangle her to death, but hard enough to enforce his message that she was _his_ , and she was to be punished accordingly for her insubordination. The Woman was panting and gasping heavily from exertion, but she didn’t speak to him. She stared up at him from her place on the floor, her chin slightly turned upward, as though daring him to do whatever he wanted to her then.

The Saiyan Prince couldn’t bring his thoughts to words, but he felt that the insufferable bitch’s resistance only spurred his lust.

There was something about this blue-haired earthling woman that drew Vegeta towards her, like a magnet. The woman’s hot-headed stubbornness, her boldness, her audacity to speak back to him. It was infuriating and intoxicating all at the same time, like a drug he couldn’t quite get enough of. The Prince’s face raged at this thought.

“ _Apologize_ to your Prince, Woman,” he growled.

“ _No_ ,” she spat back almost instantly, pushing against the heaving shoulders that almost threatened to suffocate her.

Vegeta could feel the Woman’s body trembling slightly underneath him, and he was even more surprised when he felt his anger slowly dissipate, eventually dissolving.

When he’d come to himself and his vision had cleared just in time to see the bitch turn her back on him, he’d been consumed with rage, unlike anything he’d felt before. This was the second time she succeeded in irritating him. First when she’d almost thrown up on his boots, and now this. He let out a low threatening warning growl from deep within the confines of his broad chest as she squirmed.

But now that Prince Vegeta had this insufferable new servant pinned firmly beneath his bodyweight on the floor, with her hand wound around her throat like poison ivy snaked its way around a pillar, he knew she couldn’t leave. It strangely eased his mind as he looked down at her.

She was _his_ servant woman. She could not leave him. She had _promised_. Had given her _word_ and she needed to _keep_ it if she valued her family’s pathetic fucking little lives.

Vegeta looked down at the Woman. His free hand not currently wound around the girl’s throat as he peeled his gloves off with his teeth, wanting to feel the sensation of her skin against his, to see if her skin was as soft as it looked, touched the right side of her face, almost tenderly. His new servant woman’s pale skin was soft.

Though the moment his hands ghosted along her face, he heard the Woman whine. Hearing the light little groan she let out only fueled the fire between his legs. Her skin was almost milky. Creamy. Unblemished, untouched. Flawless. Perfect. he could go on describing it until there were no words left. The animalistic side of his personality wondered what it would taste like if he were to bite her neck, if her blood, that sweet precious life force that flowed in her veins, would be as delish as the rest of her body.

His bare hand now free of his glove moved lower and he allowed the pads of his fingertips to ghost along the neckline of her sky-blue dress, letting his hands like on the swell of her breasts as they slowly rose and fell. Vegeta watched them in a daze, that strange burning pulsating through his entire body. It was something the Saiyan Prince had never felt before, never having given women much thought, too preoccupied in his own training and biding his time to free his people from the oppression of Lord Frieza.

There was an eerie low hum starting in his body that Vegeta was not sure what to make of, what to do about it.

He felt the pressure throbbing between his knees and frowned, gritting his teeth together. He grew harder as he looked down at his servant woman and was almost overwhelmed with an instinctual need to touch this girl, the urge to see what lay beneath her pretty blue servant’s dress.

He was, after all in charge. She was _his_ prisoner, his slave, not the other way around. The Woman was all _his_.

Suddenly, Vegeta wanted all of her clothing gone, to see what lay beneath the dress she wore. The more he thought about the Woman’s body being covered from his line of sight, the angrier and more flustered the Saiyan Prince became. By this point, his whole body was aflame and ached.

The horrible throbbing between his legs was growing and Prince Vegeta found it almost painful, unbearable to deal with. Sweat started to throng along his massive forehead and drip down the front and side of his temples. The Saiyan warrior could practically hear his heart pounding in his ears and his breaths seemed painfully loud as they escaped his lips.

Now that he was no longer amidst the presence of Lord Frieza and the other Saiyans under his command, he could touch her to satiate this desire to see what lay beneath this dress. Never once in his life had Vegeta felt so…confused. So out of control. He’d never felt so in need of something. Not even when he was helping purge planets.

When he was killing and training to strive to reach his fullest potential to be the greatest fight in the universe, he was at peace, it felt as though nothing could ever bother him.

But _this_? This was _nothing_ compared to all of that. This was painful to the flustered Saiyan Prince. This heat and pressure seeping through his body was demanding and unyielding. He tugged on a fistful of her blue toga-dress, eliciting a grunt of surprise from her lips. The noise pleased the sexually frustrated Saiyan Prince. The way her slender body squirmed underneath him, almost conforming to his needs the way he wanted. He was _not_ going to be gentle, yes, she had to be punished for daring to talk back as she had.

Prince Vegeta was nearing the brink of satiation, knowing this would be one of the best nights of his life, to watch the girl beneath him cringe, to hear her moans timed to his movements as he moved inside of her, to taste her blood. He lusted to make her hers, to force her to submit.

Bulma squirmed, biting down on her bottom lip, not wanting to give the monster pinning her to the floor the satisfaction of seeing her cry or to hear her scream at him to stop it.

She felt his weight nearly crushing her, her sky-blue long toga dress now the only barrier between the two of them. Bulma inhaled a sharp breath that pained her lungs as he lowered his face to hers, so their noses almost touched. Bulma basked in her master’s lustful heat, this scorching warmth that she loathed in herself for desiring.

Vegeta let his fingers move across her lips, feeling her breaths on his fingers as the two locked stares, glacier-cold blue against pits of black coal. The Saiyan Prince wanted nothing more than to absorb the very fear from his Woman’s eyes, though finding none of it there except for a seething hatred gave him pause.

“Have you ever wondered what _this_ would feel like,” he whispered roughly, his voice sounding like sandpaper, into the shell of the girl’s ear.

“Not with _you_ ,” his Woman spat back poisonously as she looked at him, blue eyes seething with vile, but she didn’t squirm or try to fight him. She must have determined, as smart as she claimed to be, that this girl would not win this fight, that it was futile for her to try to fight a seasoned warrior. He could take her right here and now if he wanted.

He could rip off her gown and take her here on the floor, the bed be damned. She would struggle against him, of that Vegeta knew was almost a certainty. The Prince could grasp her wrists behind her, hearing the Woman scream his name in pleasure and pain combined. He could taste her blood and force himself to be a permanent part of her now.

He could run his tongue along her navel, in between her legs, bite down on her breasts if he were of a mind to do it. And he could pour all that he was into her and have her birth a mighty Saiyan warrior like him, but with her eyes. Eyes as blue as paradise itself. Vegeta’s ironclad hold on the Woman’s hips tightened, and he almost growled with the intense effort to restrain himself from ripping her dress. She was as fragile as a dove.

If he weren’t careful, he could easily break his Woman. But he could also recognize the Woman’s courage to remain mostly stock-still. She was tougher than Prince Vegeta originally thought. The Prince did not know what prompted the question he asked his new servant woman to tumble out of his lips before he could stop himself.

“Do you believe in _love_ , Woman?” Vegeta asked the blue-haired woman bluntly, seemingly coming from nowhere, leaning down to look her squarely in the eyes so that their noses were almost touching. Vegeta was almost sure that the Woman’s answer would help quell the maddening fire raging between his legs.

“My _name_ ,” she spat with contempt in her eyes and hatred in her voice, “is _Bulma_. Not ‘servant woman’, not ‘bitch,’ or whatever _else_ you _monkeys_ call your women back on your home planet, but you’ll _use_ it if you want my _help_!”

He felt something ugly rise within himself at her stubbornness, and this time, Vegeta did not restrain himself as she turned her head to the left and tried to avert her gaze.

Vegeta slammed his hand down onto the floor, just narrowly grazing her right earlobe as he used his other hand to cup her jaw roughly, turning her head back, and forced the Woman to look at him. The Saiyan Prince didn’t give a damn anymore. Let the Woman, Bulma, fear him, then, let her think that he was the _monster_ they all knew him to be.

It didn’t matter. As long as he got what he wanted. _Her_. Vegeta opened his mouth to angrily retort, though something stopped him in his tracks and all thoughts of punishing this woman appropriately fled from his mind.

He felt Bulma tremble beneath him. He froze, staring into the woman’s icy blue, pleading eyes, he felt his grip on her chin slacken and his anger slowly begin to dissipate again. He’d heard of some of his own men, particularly Nappa, forcing themselves onto unwilling young women, but now that he found himself here almost in a similar position, Vegeta decided that he did not agree with such brutality.

There was nothing enjoyable in seeing a pathetic weak woman suffer like that, and though he may be an immoral Saiyan, he would never stoop as low as Nappa did. He wanted this Woman, oh, yes, of that there was no denying it, but…but…he wanted her, wanted her _willingly_.

Looking down on the floor at the small creature in front of him, however, Vegeta realized she thought that was what he wanted of her, and while she wouldn’t be wrong, not like _this_. As she lay on her back, panting and breathing heavily, teeming in apprehension and fear of her unknown fate, if she was to be raped right here in the bedroom by the Saiyan Prince himself, staring up at him in pure fear and hate, Vegeta realized this was not what he wanted of her one bit.

For some reason, this human woman did not see what any other female saw whenever they looked at Vegeta. This strange celestial-like creature, Bulma, did not see a mighty warrior, the Prince of all Saiyans. She saw him. Just as he was, and for a split second, had caused Vegeta to miraculously forget that he was a noble Prince.

It was all too clear, judging by the fear glistening as unshed moisture in her bright blue eyes, that she saw a monster. And of course, this Woman, Bulma, was right.

“ _Answer_ _me_ ,” he growled, trying one last time, thinking that her answer would help to quell his fiery lust.

Bulma paused, thinking over his question. _Do you believe in love_? Her eyes widened. What a strange thing for this monster to ask her. Why would he even ask her that?!?

“Yes.” The answer left her without any hesitation.

And there, Vegeta surrendered, wrenching himself to his feet as though the very nearness of the Woman burned him.

She slowly sat upright, shakily standing to her feet, frozen to the spot, looking at him in a shocked manner. She was staring at him again like she had when he’d first looked at her when Lord Frieza was trying to decide what to do with her. That insatiable look of curiosity, coupled with… _pity_?

Vegeta gnashed his teeth together and sharply turned away from her as the Woman nervously toyed with a lock of her brilliant blue hair. Bulma exhaled a shaking sigh of relief.

“ _Go_ ,” he blurted out in defeat. Bulma hesitated for a fraction of a second, looking unsure, though she moved away, looking at the Saiyan Prince for one last before ducking her head to continue her desperate path to the door. The fading sounds of her sandals clicking against the stone beneath their feet were as good as equaling the deadening of the temporary euphoria he felt when in her presence. When her hand’s fingers wound around the door’s handle, he called out to her. “Woman,” he barked roughly.

His servant woman stopped in mid-exit and silently waited for the Saiyan Prince to tell her what he wanted despite seeing his back turned towards her, unmoved from where Bulma had left him. Vegeta turned his head barely a fraction so the beauty could only see the side of his face, his darkened eyes looking down at his feet in anger and rancor.

It seemed to take the Prince ages to find his voice. “ _Don’t_.” He couldn’t bring himself to look at her.

He saw out the corner of his peripherals the Woman give a start at his advice. She was utterly stunned. “What…?”

“Don’t believe in it,” he growled angrily in a quiet voice, clenching his fists before crossing his arms against his chest. He wished that she would just disappear and get out of his sight. Vegeta did not want her to look at him, not as he was at the present, a complete and utter mess. From _her_.

Vegeta could almost read the Woman’s thoughts. The emotion that he told her not to believe in was real, yes, but isolated. And he’d never believed in it, nor did he have it. “Because it’s _stupid_ and doesn’t exist, girl.”

Without even looking at Bulma, he could imagine her plainly as the nose on his face how she was staring at him. Vegeta let out a low angry growl and looked down at his hands, still feeling the scorching heat from a moment ago when he’d allowed his hands to drift along her cheeks, his fingers tingling with sparks, like lightning surging through his veins.

And all because Vegeta had touched her. _Bulma_. He would be happy if those crystalline blue eyes were looking solely at him, but then he’d remembered another man’s name the old geezer had spouted back at her house.

His eyes widened. _Yamcha_. His blood boiled, igniting hotly, and it was then that he knew he needed to give Raditz a task, a new job that would surely entice the Woman to cooperate. He needed to know where his servant woman went when he wasn’t around, what she does, the people she met.

He more than needed assurance that the Woman was going to be _his_ , and _only_ his.

Vegeta slowly turned at the waist and he blanched, what little color was left in his face drained as he caught sight of the Woman looking at him, and he realized she’d not left.

“ **GET OUT!** ” he roared, a surge in temper re-igniting the flame within his chest, looking away from the blue-haired celestial creature and down at the ground in anger and defeat, and yet, still, Vegeta caused Bulma to shirk.

The little mewl of fear she let out was well worth the female’s discomfort. She didn’t need to be told a third time.

Quickly darting out the door, Bulma fled the Prince’s personal chambers as quickly as she possibly could, unable to even bloody believe what the hell had just happened to her.


	4. Chapter 4

**4**

**RADITZ** watched the strange human as the girl ducked out from underneath his arm when she opened the door, their Prince's latest obsession that was something other than training, fleeing from the Prince's quarters so fast she was almost a blur.

The woman's speed could have rivaled that of a female Saiyan. Raditz snorted and almost rolled his eyes to himself.

It was almost a pity the human girl wasn't a Saiyan. That might be the girl's one and only flaw when it came to her current task of pleasing their Prince enough to want to keep her around. If not, her family would die, and _he'd_ get to do it.

There was a tiny part of him that was looking forward to the task. He enjoyed watching the lights leave their eyes. Kakarrot's older brother poked his head in through the doorway, pretending to ignore how flushed and red in the cheeks Prince Vegeta was, his jaw locked tightly in anger. Raditz didn't bother to raise his knuckles and knock on the doorframe to announce his presence. Vegeta knew.

"I take it by the way she fled out of here, it _didn't_ go over so well. It's a _shame_ if that's the case. The girl really _is_ quite a pretty little thing, and feisty too," Raditz snorted, finding it difficult not to roll his eyes in jest, sauntering into the Prince's dark chambers. "It's a shame she isn't a Saiyan, my prince. She'd make for an exceptional mate for you if only she were like _us_ ," he said. Prince Vegeta merely grunted by way of response, not bothering to answer his comrade with a verbal answer.

Raditz smirked, the edges of his lips tugging upwards in a twisted smirk that gave his scarred, rugged features a somewhat frightening appearance on his otherwise handsome visage.

"Well, perhaps _I'll_ give it a try then. Maybe you just aren't her type," he snorted gruffly.

He almost— _almost_ —hated having to goad their Prince into responding, though Raditz's own curiosity was piqued.

To the best of his knowledge, their Prince had never taken an interest in women before, especially not a human. So, to see Vegeta in this manner was very, very _new_. Raditz blinked and was startled out of his musings when Vegeta cleared his throat and finally turned to face Raditz.

There was a strange revolt in the Saiyan Prince's face. It was pale, and his lips were parted as if devoid of words.

And his eyes were new to take in the sight of. The black of his irises was suddenly drained. 

Never had Raditz seen Vegeta so…put off, and it was highly unusual. 

The earth woman was a foreign beauty, of that there was no denying, but were Vegeta's tastes in women truly this bizarre, Raditz wondered, to disapprove of the likes of his newest servant?

"You will _not_ go _near_ her, Raditz," Vegeta snarled, and again there was that strange tinge of melancholy in his voice as he huffed, puffing out his chest in indignation and jutting his chin out as he glowered at the taller Saiyan warrior. "You would not be interested in _that_ one, she's far too outspoken and disobedient for the likes of _you_ , Raditz. I thought I made it quite clear she is _mine_. No one, not even you, is to go near her."

Prince Vegeta strode to where Raditz stood in the middle of the room and paused when he was only an inch or so away.

Though the Prince was easily the shortest Saiyan, barely taller than the young woman who he'd taken in as his concubine, Vegeta, Raditz knew, was far more intimidating.

King Vegeta's son was a Saiyan warrior known for his violent, brutal stature, so to see him so…so unhinged, and all over a female was quite new, and especially to hear the slight dip in the Saiyan's gruff voice, almost _possessive_ , was strange.

"She is _not_ your concern, Raditz. You'll stay _away_ from her if you want to prove you're not a moron with half a pea for a brain," Prince Vegeta hissed. "I don't want to talk about her. Insufferable woman. Let _me_ deal with her," Vegeta spat, sounding disgusted.

Raditz had to stop himself from smirking as Vegeta turned his head to the side so his profile was shrouded in shadow. 

"Well, you certainly _seem_ concerned about her, old friend," he smirked. This time, he allowed the faintest of a grin to flit across his features as Vegeta's head whiplashed sharply upward and this time, their Prince glowered at him.

If looks could have killed, Raditz would have been on the floor before the Saiyan could even bat an eyelash. 

Raditz gave a sideways snicker and sneered at the put-off demeanor of the Prince, who seemed at a loss for his words.

"What's the girl's name?" Raditz asked lightly, pretending to maintain an air of obliviousness to their Prince's growing discomfort over the subject matter the two Saiyan warriors were discussing. "Will you mate with her?"

Raditz was unable to keep the note of interest out of his voice as he spoke the words, but the Saiyan couldn't help it. 

He had rarely seen their Prince this flustered over a woman. No, scratch that. Raditz had _never_ seen Vegeta flustered over a woman at all, period.

This was a _first_ for him. 

The Prince's face reddened in anger, his dark eyes fixed resolutely out the window, not staring at his comrade.

"You can at least tell me her name, old friend, don't you owe me that much for finding her, Vegeta?" Raditz sighed, a look of exasperation on his face as he moved to stand by the windowsill, hellbent on seeing whatever it was that held the Prince's gaze captive as he stared out the window.

Prince Vegeta cast his eyes down towards his white leather boots before mumbling something incoherently.

"What?" Raditz growled, growing impatience with the Prince's reluctance to tell him the Earth girl's name. "What did you say?"

" _Bulma_ , her name is _Bulma_ ," snapped Vegeta before turning his back on Raditz to look out the window again. "And we're not friends," the Saiyan Prince sneered angrily.

"Maybe not," Raditz shrugged with a nonchalant grin plastered onto his face. "But take a little friendly advice, Your Highness, from someone who's had plenty of women mad at him," he offered unsolicited, unaware of how uncomfortable it was making Vegeta. "Never, ever underestimate the fury of a woman," he warned, eyes flashing before his grin widened and he clapped the Prince on the back before Vegeta could open his mouth to respond.

Vegeta scoffed and rolled his eyes in disgust, giving Raditz a withering look before replying, keeping his arms folded across his chest.

"She is currently of interest for me, but not for the reasons that you _think_. She did something unforgivable. She _dares_ to talk back to _me_ , the Saiyan Prince, and I cannot let allow her behavior to go unpunished." He paused and turned in time to observe his lieutenant's facial expression turn into one of great surprise.

"Oh," was all Raditz could reply, his voice hollow.

"So, you see, I am trying to decide what to do with her," sighed the Prince exasperatedly as he finally strode away from the window, keeping his arms folded across his chest.

"You, you didn't…do anything to her in here then? You just…let her _go_ , and that was it?" Raditz asked incredulously, hardly daring to believe what he was hearing. He eyed his commander with concern as he plopped himself down on the black couch shoved in the corner of the room, draping his muscular leg over the armrest of the sofa.

It seemed to take Vegeta an eternity to find his voice. Raditz swore he saw the Prince give a start at the query he'd just posted to his commander.

"I…" Vegeta started to say, looking across the room at his lieutenant as he restlessly paced an agitated, frantic line in front of the room's fireplace, his dark eyes glazed over, a look of annoyance written on his face.

Raditz frowned and quirked his brows at Vegeta.

"Yes," the Prince begrudgingly admitted before a light pink blush speckled on his cheeks as he looked away. "But make no _mistake_ , Raditz," he seethed, gnashing his teeth together and clenching his shaking fists at his side. "I mean to punish her in some small way. The Woman cannot be allowed to break the rules around here as my servant and get away with it. If any of you were to take women as your concubines, she would surely set a bad example for them…"

"I don't understand," Raditz piped up thoughtfully, absentmindedly beginning to pick at his nail's cuticles to try to dig dried blood out from underneath them, results of his sparring match with Nappa earlier. "Why don't you just ask your father to deal with her? He could have her dealt with in an instant. He's _here_ , you know, Lord Frieza told him about the girl, he's taken quite an interest in the fact his oldest son seems to show interest finally after all these years in taking a _mate_ , and giving your family line an heir or two," he added casually, hiding his smirk at the look of shock coupled with anger dawning on Vegeta's face as Vegeta looked at him. "He arrived here with your brother maybe a half-hour ago."

"I…" stammered the Prince, avoiding Raditz's fixed stare. "I want to deal with her _myself_. And why didn't anyone _tell_ me my father was coming?" he bellowed angrily.

 _Just great_ , Vegeta thought bitterly to himself. _That's the LAST thing I need right now. Father interfering in my affairs. And Tarble, nosy little insufferable brat. Having the Woman here is challenging enough, and now this shit?!_

Raditz blinked owlishly in surprise at the Prince's outburst, shaking his head in response to the sudden unexpected shift in Prince Vegeta's countenance, though he said nothing. He turned on his heels to leave, sensing the Prince wished to be left alone when Vegeta called after him.

"I have a job for you, Raditz," Vegeta barked hoarsely, turning finally to look at the taller Saiyan. "One I think suits your…taste for violence," he smirked evilly.

Raditz grinned, intrigued. This sounded more up his alley. "I'm listening," the Saiyan said intently, all ears. It didn't long for Vegeta to divulge the details of his plan. The more he explained, the more Raditz liked it. A lot. Though something was puzzling him.

"I will do what you ask, Prince," he muttered, inclining his head slightly to show that of course, he would. "But…what's with all this secrecy?" asked Raditz quizzically as he rose to his feet the moment he felt his stomach let out a rumbling growl, reminding the Saiyan he hadn't eaten in almost a day. If Raditz were lucky, maybe he could find Prince Vegeta's pretty little new concubine and see if she would cook them something.

Raditz smirked, though fought against it forming on his lips, not wanting Vegeta to misread his expression and learn of Raditz's intentions for himself…

"I can't tell you and more to the point, it's none of your _business_ ," Vegeta snarled and looked up to glower angrily at his comrade. "The issue is between her and me."

"Alright," Raditz shrugged, lifting his calloused hands in surrender as he made his way towards the room's door. "I'm just curious, that's all, Your Highness. You seem to be going about the matter in a very strange way for you, not telling anyone about it. If she's _that_ bad, you should have gotten rid of her by now, passed the girl off to me or Nappa, or killed her yourself if she's a problem for you," Raditz offered up, looking a little shocked when he heard Vegeta let out a low warning growl from deep within the confines of his chest as he turned his wrathful temper on Raditz then.

"I'm deciding what to do with her. There's nothing more to it than that and nothing less. Please, Raditz, keep your _irksome_ opinions and curiosities to yourself, or I'll rip out your _tongue_ ," scowled Vegeta as he closed his eyes and began to massage at his temples with his right hand, fatigued. "If that's what you want," snorted Raditz as the Prince stared back at his lieutenant, anger in his black eyes.

Vegeta quickly shifted his gaze back down to the floor, feeling the worst of his anger and shock melt away, and he was about to respond when Raditz didn't give him a chance.

"Your father's waiting outside and growing _annoyed_ of waiting. He's on his way now as we speak, Highness."

"Send him in," Vegeta said flatly, thinking it was going to be a very long night, and he still could not shake the burning tingling sensation off his hand where his fingers had caressed the Woman's smooth cheek, or unable to forget the icy-blueness of her glacier-cold eyes as she glared at him.

As Raditz turned on his heels to go, he thought his best course of action would surely be to dismiss her if she really thought him to be that despicable, that much of a monster, and to let the bitch take her chances out on the streets if that's what she so wanted, but not before paying her some harsh words to remind the Woman of her place here. Vegeta did not particularly want to linger on the pure fear he had seen in the Woman's eyes less than fifteen minutes ago.

The _fear_ … the Saiyan Prince supposed he'd deserved that from his new servant woman, he guessed, but he'd never intended to physically hurt her. But he wanted her.

He could not understand why the insufferable Woman had rejected him in the first place. Clearly, she didn't know who the hell she was dealing with. For some reason, while Vegeta waited for his father to make his presence known to his eldest son, he felt an incredible urge not to tell anyone what had happened. He knew Raditz wouldn't say a word.

Vegeta was sure it had to do with the fact that he didn't want any slanderous gossip to spread about him and the human woman.

If he was to take his father's rightful place as King, then he was going to have to stay away from any situations that might be scandalous. Not that he'd ever really felt an obligation to do so, but he was going to have to be careful. He knew that Father would surely not accept the human Woman as his son's rightful mate if he was of a mind to take her in that way.

He knew Father would deem the human girl as weak and not fit for the likes of a Saiyan Prince. He would definitely have to be cautious from now on and approach the situation with a certain tact and finesse.

Vegeta let out a haggard sigh and pinched at the bridge of his nose with this thumb and forefinger, wondering why it was, he mulled this over in his mind as he looked down at his bare hand, why he couldn't shake the tingling sensation from spiraling through his fingertips, or the scent of the Woman's shampoo, apples, from his senses.

While he waited for Father to show himself, his mind was stuck on one thing and only thing only: _Bulma_.

* * *

 **BULMA** didn't know what part of the fortress she had fled to, some far-flung corridor at the other end of this strange castle the Saiyans had decided to inhabit until they decided they'd clearly had enough of Earth and left in their ship.

She didn't stop until she reached a room with a door, shutting it as quietly as she could behind her and leaned against it, her heart still beating erratically in her chest.

What the hell had just happened?! Sliding down to the cold stone floor, Bulma shakily knitted her fingers together as she tried to regain control of her emotions by forcing herself to breathe slowly in and out, her mind reeling while it worked on overdrive to logically assess the situation. She was sure she was going to be killed tonight.

She'd upset this stupid Saiyan Prince and broken god only knew how many of his unspoken rules, as he'd not gotten a chance to tell her what she was really supposed to do before her own temper had imploded and she'd lost it.

Bulma sat on the floor numbly, trying to think about what to do. The room she found herself in was empty, but thank god it was aired out and neat as if it had been previously occupied. Bulma figured that it probably had. Maybe one of the other Saiyans had taken a girl of their own, though if anyone lived here, she guessed it was hers now.

She looked over her shoulder towards the door. It didn't seem as much as she might like to that she could stay here in this room.

She'd not eaten anything in the last twenty-four hours. Bulma was honestly kind of surprised she'd not passed the hell out already. She figured she should have had less of an appetite, considering what Prince Vegeta had almost done to her in his own personal quarters.

Bulma closed her eyes and shakily leant her forehead against her wrists. She attempted to forget the entire little 'incident' completely but couldn't erase the sight of the Saiyan Prince heaving with fury and lust from her mind. Piercing black eyes, like finest glittering onyx…

The Saiyan Prince that she had more or less just confronted was utterly hypnotic, in an arresting sort of way. Bulma could not deny that the alien humanoid was not made of the same flesh and blood as the people of Earth.

With a wild thick tuft of jet-black hair that looked as though he'd accidentally stuck his finger in an electrical socket, sticking up in tufts every which way and seemed to possess a mind of its own, a strong almost Roman-god-like jaw with chiseled, hardened features, and a strong, discerning brow that seemed permanently stuck in a frown, Prince Vegeta of the Saiyan race looked like an otherworldly being, a god. She snorted. Well, _almost_ , yes.

She'd not been able to find any warmth in the Saiyan Prince's piercing black eyes, which had stared at her with such anger, rage, and contempt for how she had talked back that she was sure the moment he'd managed to use even just barely a fraction of his overwhelming Saiyan strength, she was sure she was going to be assaulted there on the floor. The only thing Bulma had wanted was for him to go away, to be bored of her so that he would dismiss her, and she could return to the relative safety of her new room.

Even when Prince Vegeta had tried to order her onto his bed, Bulma had firmly held her ground and had felt the courage and conviction within herself to hopefully convey the message that she wasn't some daft pushover. Despite the man's savage snarling and growling, she'd not lost her resolve.

But then… Bulma shivered, grinding her teeth, not wanting to linger on the way he'd looked at her. There had been that moment when the Prince had touched her cheek with a startling tenderness, a subtlety. Bulma let out a shaking breath and opened her eyes and raked her fingers through her blue hair, toying with the ends of her wavy strands. He'd looked almost shocked.

As to _why_ , Bulma hadn't the faintest clue, but it made her feel uncomfortable. _Vulnerable_.

Thank God he'd seemed to have a change of heart and had let her go after that. Maybe the Prince had recognized her discomfort and had held some sort of shred of mercy in him? She wondered. Bulma shuddered away from her unhelpful thoughts and shakily rose to her feet. She looked over towards the bed and around the rest of the room with nowhere to hide.

She was beginning to feel more than a little claustrophobic. She couldn't stay there.

Turning on her heels and wrenching the door open, she stepped out over the threshold of the little bedroom and out into the hall again, towards the staircase to her immediate right side, so Bulma couldn't see what was around the next turn just now.

Bulma paused. It sounded stupid to be afraid of going down a staircase but considering what she had just escaped she was terrified. She nearly went back inside the room she had just vacated. But Bulma crept towards the stairwell and kept one hand against the wall to brace herself as she went down slowly, bracing herself for something _else_ to happen.

Some other creepy Saiyan couldn't keep his monkey grubby paws to himself to pop out from a corner.

Though nothing happened.

Bulma shook her head to herself, beginning to feel like an idiot for feeling so skittish and began to walk more quickly the moment she heard her stomach let out a particularly loud and painful growl that caused her to clutch at her stomach in the hopes of alleviating the sharp pain that shot its way through her abdomen. But she knew her only remedy for this in this regard was eating something.

"I suppose my new _master_ is going to want food too, if he eats anything like Goku does," Bulma growled under her breath, scrunching her nose in disgust as she thought of Goku's truly disgusting table manners that always left something to be desired. "Must be a Saiyan thing," she sighed, walking quicker and quicker down the steps, and then she skidded three steps down onto the next landing and ran headlong into a bearded Saiyan she didn't recognize.

The man startled upon hearing Bulma's shriek of surprise, she startled at how much he looked like Prince Vegeta, save for the closely cropped rough beard that graced his strong jawline and his face, hard and lean, eyed Bulma with a critical, surprising shock.

The two of them very nearly stumbled down the kitchen together.

The bearded Saiyan caught the railing with one hand, quick, and Bulma's forearm with the other, and somehow managed to keep them both from landing on the floor. Bulma found herself leaning heavily on him, clutching at the material of his black jumpsuit underneath his armor and staring directly into the stranger's pale face.

He looked shocked, though less shocked, and horrified than Bulma expected the older Saiyan man to be.

For one moment, the bearded Saiyan was too surprised to be so deeply lost in thought, and he almost looked like an ordinary man startled by something jumping out at him, a little silly and a little soft, his mouth parted and eyes wide. Bulma would have thought him normal, were it not for his tail wound around his waist like a belt.

Bulma was so surprised and mortified that she didn't move, just stayed there gawking at the tall Saiyan helplessly. He was the first one to recover. Annoyance and outrage swept over his hardened features and he heaved her off of him and back onto his feet, brushing his palms on the front of his armor as though just touching her burned him.

Bulma gaped at the strange gesture, not sure if she should be offended or embarrassed. But then she realized what she had just done, she had almost tripped this man down a flight of stairs and God knows what would have happened to him if they had actually fallen. The words blurted out of her lips before she could think of stopping herself.

"F—forgive me, I didn't mean to—to make us both fall down the stairs, sir, I—I'm looking for the—the kitchen," she stammered, suddenly unable to meet his gaze.

She clamped her hands over her mouth, a bright pink blush covering her cheeks, and waited for him to speak. His dark eyes looked at the pink coloring of her cheeks with a strange interest, as though this Saiyan man who bore a striking resemblance to her master, wasn't quite sure what to make of the strange blue-haired woman who had almost succeeded in causing him to fall down the stairs. But he looked away soon enough for it to not be too weird, Bulma noticed, and finally turned back to look at her.

"I thought I heard someone moving around. I thought perhaps it might be my _son_ , but instead, I find you. I could hear you…moving around," he told her and held out his arm. "You say you're looking for the kitchen, girl?"

"Yes." Bulma wasn't sure what else to say to that.

" _Are_ you?" he murmured in a silky and soft voice. He hadn't let go of her arm. His grip was tight, clenching, and painful. Bulma could feel the sheer heat of it as he jerked Bulma towards him and bent towards her where he stood. "Then perhaps I had better _show_ you there, woman, yes?"

Not giving Bulma any time to react, much less refuse his 'offer,' Bulma could only mutely nod and allow herself to be forcefully dragged down the rest of the stairwell and into a sparse room that she guessed was the kitchens, or at the least, it looked to be a food storage unit, at best. The bearded Saiyan dragged her towards an oven, little more than a huge fireplace like a downturned move, its flames licking and dangerously threatening, leering at Bulma.

In a sheer second of blind terror, Bulma realized this Saiyan was going to throw her in and cook her and _eat_ her He was so strong, way stronger than her, and he'd pulled her easily down the stairwell after she'd ran into him. But Bulma could _not_ let him put her in that fire.

She screamed and fought the Saiyan man tooth and nail as he pulled her closer to the fireplace, and she went into a fit of squirming, clawing, and scratching at his armor with her long nails, anywhere she could reach in the hopes of getting the man to let her go, so this time, she really did trip him to the floor. Bulma went down with him. The two of them conked their heads on the flagstones together, groaning and lay dazed on their backs, their bodies a tangle of limbs.

After the moment, the Saiyan barked out in a rough, hoarse tone, "Are you _deranged_ , woman? What is the _matter_ with you?!" he snapped irately, turning to look at Bulma as he slowly sat up, blinking owlishly at the young woman until the giddiness left him and his vision had returned to normal once more.

"I—I thought you were gonna throw me in the oven," she said, still in a daze and not quite sure what had happened, and then Bulma inexplicably started to laugh. It wasn't real laughter. By this point, she was half-hysterical.

Bulma had narrowly escaped being raped by the mad Saiyan Prince who now more or less owned her soul, wrung out six ways until she thought her mind was insane, starving, her ankles, knees, and elbows bruised from being dragged across the floor, first by Vegeta, and then down the stairs to the kitchen by this new Saiyan who looked like him, though she couldn't quite place how that was, unless…

 _Oh, no. Oh, fuck. Not that_. Bulma's eyes widened in realization as she took in a good look at the Saiyan's face.

The same chiseled angular features, the wild dark hair. The same eyes. _Is…is this man I tripped down the stairs the Prince's FATHER?! Did I really just trip the king?!_ Bulma wasn't sure to laugh even harder or burst into tears.

Her head throbbed and ached. Bulma raised a shaking hand and winced as she felt it: a good-sized egg-shaped lump where she'd struck her head on the bottom step, and she just couldn't stop laughing, tears rolling down her cheeks. But the King didn't know that about Bulma.

All he knew was a stupid Earth woman was _laughing_ at him, the King of the Saiyan race, one of the greatest and formidable warriors in perhaps the universe, and the father of her new lord and master, Prince Vegeta. Judging by the look of shock coupled with anger on his face, Bulma guessed that someone hadn't laughed at him in many years by then.

Prince Vegeta's father, still looking quite flustered and at a loss for words, pushed himself up off the floor with a grunt, kicking his legs free from Bulma's, and as the Saiyan royalty got to his feet, he stared disgruntled down at her, outraged like a vicious tiger, baring his teeth at her.

"Were I you, girl, I would take better care around here unless you wish to further anger Vegeta. I know of you, girl. You must be the new ah… _concubine_ my son has taken in. Well. No matter. I'm sure you'll either learn quick enough, or you'll be dismissed. My son takes breakfast at eight, dinner at one, supper at seven. Leave his dinners for him in his chambers, though tonight he and I are dining in the hall of this place, and you need not stick around, woman."

He made an odd sniffing noise of disapproval and wonder as he looked down his nose at Bulma and shook his head, looking as though he wasn't sure what to make of her.

Well. That made two of them. How many Saiyans in one day could she manage to piss off? First Vegeta, now his father?! Bulma only laughed harder at the look of shock on his face and without a word, the Saiyan King turned on his heels and left her there laughing on the floor, as though the man couldn't think what else to do with her in her state.

Almost instantly after Prince Vegeta's father left, Bulma's giggling fit tapered off, and somehow, Bulma felt less afraid and a little hollower than before. He hadn't even slapped her for her clumsiness, which, given his son's anger, Bulma had fully anticipated it and had been expecting it.

But it hadn't come. Just as… "Just as Vegeta didn't…didn't do it," Bulma whispered hoarsely as she looked around at the kitchen storage, spotting a couple of bottles of wine she wondered if she could make use of later when the Saiyan Prince had dismissed her, and she could go back to her room. After the shit day she'd had, she could use a drink. "Or three," she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger, fighting off the splitting headache that threatened to crack her skull open.

While she searched through the food storage for something that she thought Saiyan royalty would like to eat, finding very little, and realizing she was just going to have to make do with what was given, Bulma hadn't been able to stop thinking about how the Prince had let her go.

Maybe…she thought in the midst of frying up a pan of sausages and eggs. She knew Goku always ate a ton of meat, especially right after a sparring session, so the protein was sure to be good for them. It was going to have to do. Maybe, given the fact that Vegeta had let her go…

She had misjudged him. Bulma sighed as she paused on her way back up the stairwell, stopping in her tracks to look at her reflection in the mirror near the door and toss her wavy hair back over her shoulders and smoothing the wrinkles in her sky-blue long toga-looking dress that was admittedly quite comfortable and looked great on her.

It was the one thought that plagued her mind as she walked back towards the Prince's personal chambers, a cold sweat starting to break out along her forehead and temples.

That if Prince Vegeta had let her _go_ , maybe the man wasn't all bad. Maybe she really had misjudged him, somehow…

Bulma as she stood outside the door to the Prince's chambers, made a silent vow to be kinder to Prince Vegeta. She didn't bother to knock to announce her presence as the door was already open and Vegeta's father shot her an admonishing but knowing little smirk, his eyes twinkling as he inclined his head, signaling her to come in.

Vegeta looked disgruntled and grumpy about something or other as she nervously stepped through the doorway, though what _else_ was new?

 _He really needs to lighten the hell up, take a vacation for god's sake_ , Bulma mused, though considering how he'd behaved towards her earlier, despite the fact that she'd already decided to try to make amends with the man who owned her life and soul now, that didn't mean that Vegeta needed to know that about Bulma.

No. She would let him stew in it for a while and see what came of it. Though as she set down their food in front of them and turned on her heels to flee the room without so much as sparing the Saiyan warriors a glance, she heard Vegeta's hoarse voice call out to her in a harsh tone.

"Not _you_ , Woman," Vega barked roughly. Bulma froze in mid-step and slowly turned. "You've not been _dismissed_. You will stay with us. Keep us company while we eat, girl."

Bulma resisted the urge to seize on tufts of her blue hair and tug on them until the roots screamed in protest.

Slowly she turned around at the waist and inwardly cringed when she noticed Prince Vegeta smirking at her, gesturing with a curt jerk of his head to take the chair next to her, which would conveniently seat her next to the king. Swallowing thickly past the lump in her sore throat, Bulma saw no other choice.

She shuffled awkwardly towards the long rectangular table in this place's mess hall and took a seat, wincing, biting down on her bottom lip as the chair she pulled out made a horrible scraping noise across the floor. She saw the two aliens flinch but kept silent.

Bulma sat across the table from Prince Vegeta, knowing that by the way, he was currently ogling her in her blue dress while she struggled not to pay attention to the man who had more or less almost raped her, that she was in for a very long night.

A Very. Long. Night.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this chapter clears up at least a little bit of why Frieza's still around, and I don't go into it much, but Vegeta's father is still obviously alive in this AU fic of mine, just biding his time to make the right move against Frieza and his Frieza Forces lol.

**5**

**KING** Vegeta eyed the Earth woman from across the table, finding her most curious. This blue-haired beauty was perhaps the first human earthling he had ever encountered. He wondered where Vegeta had found her, and what he wanted of her. Oh, if he were to listen to Frieza, it was rumored he wished to mate with this one. At least, that was the impression Lord Frieza had given off a few days ago.

The King of the Saiyan race considered himself a Saiyan warrior who would do whatever it took to achieve the necessary results. So far, he thought he had been able to achieve remaining cooperative with Lord Frieza and the rest of the Frieza Force, previously known as the Cold Force, though once King Cold relinquished control of their forces over to his son, it was aptly renamed.

King Vegeta snorted and rolled his eyes, studying the girl over his glass of chilled earth wine that as he took a sip burned his throat going down.

He pulled a face but did not necessarily dislike the beverage. King Vegeta continued to study the earthling woman with a copious amount of interest. The resistance of the people of Earth, not so willing to be kowtowed by the likes of Frieza, was expected, though not quite to this extent.

For the moment, as he studied the Earth woman, this girl of many stories, or so he was told, how she was perhaps one of the strongest women on the planet, maybe not physically speaking, but she was certainly feisty and outspoken, and carried a certain inner strength that he could tell his eldest son admired, though Vegeta would never dare admit it to anyone out loud, especially not _her_.

Even across the table like this, while adamantly refusing to look at him or his son, the King felt the girl’s warmth pulsate.

Among the dreary walls of this strange fortress, she looked like summer with that blue hair of hers. Her blue eyes were sharp and inquisitive, her skin pale, her chest pleasing enough to look at, even his son found himself ogling for longer than was appropriate, though the King expected this of his eldest. To the best of his knowledge, Vegeta had never taken an interest in taking a mate up until now.

There was something of this Earth woman that had caught his son’s eye, the King could see it, and he aimed to find out what. Her figure was eye-catching in her sky-blue traditional Saiyan style dress the women wore when not fighting back on their home planet of Vegeta, and King Vegeta found his younger self nursing a strange desire for his son’s concubine, which was, of course, impossible, as he was already mated, and this woman was his son’s… mate?

His nostrils flared as he leaned forward in his seat slightly, catching out of the corner of his eye as his son stiffened in his seat, his fingers curled around the tines of his fork, looking quite like he wanted to stab his father’s hand with it for attempting to catch a whiff of his son’s scent on the Earth woman, to see if he had claimed her his. Vegeta had not.

He let out a haggard sigh and shifted his gaze towards his son, whose brows were knitted together in a scowl, and judging by the way his son’s facial muscles had tensed, the younger Saiyan warrior was seething, though he looked like he was desperately trying to control himself in front of their otherwise ‘polite company.’

Vegeta’s father snorted and studied his son over the rim of his wine glass, swirling the crimson red liquid that looked like blood, and rolled his eyes at his son’s strange behavior. King Vegeta felt older than he was at the moment. His dark hair greying faster than he could bloody blink an eyelid.

His body, though the stubborn Saiyan King refused to think it much less dare admit it to anyone else, was aching more and more, and the stress was getting to him, hampering his ability to think and scheme as he used to. Hence why he’d come to his son. King Vegeta wasn’t sure what compelled him to blurt it out, maybe it was a side effect of this Earth wine, he wasn’t sure, but the words were out before he could stop himself.

But the matter was of the utmost urgency, and the Saiyans had lived suppressed under Cold and Frieza’s rule long enough. King Vegeta had only held out against Frieza this long because the warrior was a cunning tactician, a military man.

He’d bided his time for years, but the time to act was now. “I presume you know why I am here, my son. Guvens has _died_ , Vegeta, in case you weren’t already made aware. A complaint of the heart, though not surprising, considering he was almost a thousand years old,” he blurted out bluntly.

The words had the desired effect on his son. Vegeta, who’d been about to take a sip of the Earth wine and try it for himself, almost coughed on his own tongue and had to turn his head to the side and cough until his fit subsided.

King Vegeta noticed the girl stiffen in her chair, but she had not touched a single bite of her own food on her plate. She seemed rooted in her chair, watching to see if Vegeta would choke.

 _Maybe she’s hoping he will_ , King Vegeta thought to himself, shaking his head in amusement. He did not know what spark in this woman had ignited his son’s interest in this Earth woman, though he intended to find out tonight. King Vegeta had not meant to have announced the news in such a straightforward manner, at least not at first, but the matter was of the utmost urgency, as King Cold had commanded King Vegeta to find a replacement as the head scientist to continue the daunting task of putting his son back together after Bardock’s own son Kakarot had split him in half during a fight on the planet Namek. 

The restoration team had been more or less successful, though not without their faults. It had gotten to the point where Lord Frieza could walk and talk though he was not quite yet ‘perfected,’ in his and King Cold’s eyes, and continued to go under during his once-a-week upgrades, but not that Guvens, the lead scientist had died, and the other two on the team lacked the ability to take charge King Vegeta needed to seize this chance, and _fast_.

If they could but find a brilliant enough scientist that would be willing to work alongside the Saiyan race and take charge from his son and Bardock, then they might just stand a chance at overruling Lord Frieza and King Cold and free their people (and the rest of the universe) from this oppression that had gone on for far too long.

Prince Vegeta simply stared across the table at his father, his expression completely nebulous, almost devoid of emotion as his mind processed his father’s words and what that meant for them. His dark eyes narrowed as they lingered on the unmarked woman, the blackness of his pupils glittering dangerously in the dim light of the room.

“Is that so, Father?” he drawled lazily, before tearing his gaze away from King Vegeta and towards his servant woman, who was fidgeting in her chair and looking uncomfortable in the presence of two formidable first-class Saiyan warriors. King Vegeta nodded, relieved he listened.

“We’ll have to find a replacement and fast. King Cold has designated me with this responsibility. If we can find one brilliant enough who could implant flaws in his son’s inner circuitry, then we might stand a chance of toppling their reign over the Saiyans and the rest of the universe,” he grumbled, resting his cheek in his fist. “I’m sending Bardock on out a scouting mission soon to look for his son, if we can find Kakarot then maybe we might still have a ch—”

“ _No_.” Yet again, the Prince interrupted him, his voice flat and listless, sounding almost angered.

The King blinked, feeling certain he’d misheard his son. “What?” he growled, curling his slender fingers around the stem of his wine glass.

“We don’t need to send Bardock. There is another way, but _this_ one,” he snapped, jerking his head towards Bulma, “isn’t going to _like_ it,” he sneered.

Sensing his father’s confusion, he turned his attention back towards King Vegeta and continued explaining.

“I have someone already in mind. Her father could work for us, Father, the man is rumored to be a top scientist in his field. He will do it for us, or he’ll _die_ refusing,” Prince Vegeta barked hoarsely, smirking a little at the look of shock and outrage on his servant woman’s face as she bolted upright from her chair, her face pale.

“ **NO**!” Bulma bellowed at the top of her lungs, balling her shaking hands into fists. “I’m _not_ going to let you do this, no matter _what_ you’re trying to punish me for. Is this because of earlier, monkey?”

“ _Shut up, Woman_!” Vegeta shouted, slamming the flat of his palm down along the surface of the table so hard the table cracked. “Do you forget that I _own_ you? You’re _mine_ , servant woman! Were it not for me saving your pathetic, miserable life, you’d be dead at Frieza’s hands? Your whole planet is on the brink of annihilation as it is. Think of this as your saving grace to serve your _gods_ and free your people _and_ mine from Frieza in the same breath, Woman. A difficult task for you, I’m sure, but I think you can manage it.”

“Maybe you did save my life, Prince, but that _doesn’t_ mean that I’m going to let you drag my father into this! He may be a genius but he’s _old_! He wouldn’t last under your strenuous working conditions!” shouted Bulma, who could already feel the lump constricting in her throat and tears pricking at the edges of her eyes, though she refused to let them fall. “There has to be another solution! Is there really no other way?”

She wracked her brain the moment the words were out of her lips, as her mind flitted through a dozen and one possible outcomes, and then it hit her.

A way to still give the Saiyans what they wanted, and if what the Prince had just told her was true, save her people. And his, though for the moment, she only had her planet to think of. She didn’t care what happened to Vegeta and the rest of his kind, as long as Goku and Gohan were safe.

“Take _me_ there in my father’s place. _I_ will do it, Highness. I’m a scientist alongside my father, an expert in robotics and various technologies, both of Earth design and I’m a relatively quick learner, sir. I would be happy to take a look at this Lord Frieza’s blueprints and see what I can do about implanting a few flaws in that _jerk’s_ circuitry that will prevent him from reaching his fullest power. He’s not going to be able to maintain his reign for long with just terror as his only weapon. The people of Earth want to see a leader who truly cares for the survival of our kind, not just that of your own race. They need to feel someone to protect them from Frieza and his goons, which is what you and your people are _supposed_ to be doing, aren’t you?” she said, speaking more to King Vegeta than to his son at the moment, as the King had treated her with more respect so far than his wretched son had.

Bulma narrowed her eyes as she heard the Prince draw in a sharp, audible gasp of surprise, as though he could not believe what he was hearing, or perhaps he was stunned at the display of respect Bulma was choosing to exhibit to his father and forsaking him and had gotten offended as a result.

Bulma stopped to look at King Vegeta. He was casually observing her, listening, giving her the space to continue, while his son merely looked shocked, as though he’d not considered that angle. For all she knew of the Prince, he hadn’t.

Bulma ignored the flustered-looking younger Saiyan and continued to address her plea to the king, thinking the older man would heed her words, and at least consider them if not follow them. It was not an easy thing to do, to talk to a formidable warrior, let alone a king, like this.

But the topic had come out on its own and it was much too late for Bulma to take back her words. She pressed forward. “The people need to feel protected with…Goku gone.” She swallowed and squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to think of her friend. She still could not believe Goku was _dead_. The others who possessed the ability to read energy levels—Roshi, Piccolo, and even Yamcha, to a lesser extent, had all tried to find Goku after planet Namek had blown up, but no dice.

His energy signal couldn’t be detected. He was dead, and she had to wax and seal that off in her mind that he _wasn’t_ coming back unless they could locate the seven Dragon Balls, though if Frieza and his father wiped out the Earth before she and the others had a chance to find them, it was truly a hopeless situation.

But Bulma was pulled from her thoughts as the king spoke up.

“So many gallant words, Woman, and I am only a simple Saiyan warrior.” Vegeta’s father laced his slender fingers together as he looked at Bulma. Everyone in this room knew he was anything but. He was the King of his people, for God’s sake! He was a brilliant man in his own right. “What is it that you _want_ of us, exactly, girl?”

Bulma furrowed her thin blue eyebrows into a frown as she frowned as she looked at the king. He wanted her to make a mistake and say something stupidly dangerous, was that it? Bulma knew she needed to tread carefully with her choice of words, or else the line she treaded would break.

“Let _me_ take my father’s place.” Bulma decided her best course of action, in this case, was to simply be straightforward, as Saiyans, at least what she had seen of these types so far, did not seem the type for idle chit-chat. They did not beat around the bush to make a point. “Send a message, do whatever you have to do to Frieza’s father. I will go with you, prove my worth and skill if that is what is required of me before they would accept me, but do _not_ bring my family into this mess, sir.”

Bulma finished and looked towards the king impatiently, biting her lip as a sign of her nervousness and skittish behavior. This time, she was nervous for real. Had she overstepped her place? Was it too soon, improper of her as the Prince’s servant to make such a bold request?

The King was looking rather… _amused_. If such a word could even be applied to a Saiyan who showed no emotion whatsoever.

The Prince, however, his face was almost flushed with rage. His fingers were curled into fists, and his whole body seemed to be shaking, though why he was growing so increasingly agitated over the nature of her request, Bulma couldn’t fathom it.

It puzzled her, though the Prince’s actions were the least of her concerns for the moment. She shot Prince Vegeta a quizzical look that he did not return, turning his gaze to his father and awaited his response in silence.

“Please,” she beseeched, painfully digging her nails into the skin of her palms. “If this is the only way, then let me do it, but do not bring my dad into this mess. _Please_. I will go. Let me work on Frieza. I’ll take care of him for you, Highness. My talents would be better served in a lab than I am as a cook. I’m a shit cook,” she weakly joked. Bulma bit down on her bottom lip. “Please. Let me do this. _Please_ ,” she begged.

It was the use of the word ‘please’ that did it, coupled with hearing the agony and desperation in her voice that gave King Vegeta pause.

The King of the Saiyans, however, was merely looking thoughtful, his brows furrowed together, his thumb and forefinger stroking his beard. The older warrior looked as though he were at least considering her offer, which was good.

His son meanwhile, Bulma noticed, was gaping at her as though he could hardly believe what he’d heard, though the moment her gaze settled on his, there was a faint blush of pink at his cheeks and he looked away, grumbling a series of curses under his breath that Bulma dared not repeat to herself.

“I am the _king_ of the Saiyan race, girl,” he stated slowly. “You don’t need to remind _me_ of what this position entails. Since your careful plans sounds as though it could work, I see no reason against granting your wish, as insane as a suicide mission as this would be. Hmm. It might be possible, girl. Usually, you would need a reference. But you could get away with it, I think. King Cold in particular is fond of pretty faces. Whereas other females would never be able to get within a foot of Cold and Frieza, I think that you might be able to do so, providing you provide a show of strength and your intellect.”

Bulma blinked owlishly over at the Prince as she couldn’t be sure, but she swore she heard the King’s son emit an odd, strangled noise of disbelief at the back of his throat. What for, though, even she didn’t know, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

 _Why should he care about me, anyway_? She thought meanly, narrowing her blue eyes at Vegeta.

The King’s gaze pierced right through Bulma, surely seeing all of Bulma’s true intentions. But it didn’t matter right now. He’d agreed.

“Th—thank you,” Bulma stuttered and shot him a shy albeit grateful smile. Looking towards the Prince’s father, she met his gaze and forced herself to withstand it, thinking the Saiyans would probably appreciate the subtle show of strength.

Though her momentary feeling of victory in her chest popped like a balloon as she heard the Prince's grating voice speak up, angered.

“I’m _not_ going to let this stand, Father. She wouldn’t last one _day_ in Lord Frieza’s company. He’d rip out her heart with his bare hand within the hour for daring to talk back to him like she did _me_ , and then our cover would be blown once Frieza tortured her enough to make her _squeal_ ,” barked Prince Vegeta in a rough, hoarse voice.

“ _Did_ she now?” King Vegeta’s interest was piqued as his gaze flitted towards the blue-haired female, his curiosity swelling the longer they discussed this option as a possibility. He hadn’t heard of this part. He watched, smirking to himself, as a faint rosy blush appeared on her cheeks.

Bulma stammered, tossing a lock of her hair back over her shoulders, and tried to clarify.

“I, um…forgive me, I lost my temper with your son, Highness. I—I should not have, the fault was _mine_. Not your son’s, Your Highness. Do not punish your son, sir, for something that was my fault,” she whispered in a faint voice, seeming more afraid of the King than she did of Prince Vegeta, which Vegeta was harboring an odd expression on his face, as though he wasn’t sure whether or not to be offended or not.

He blanched and looked away from Bulma when she caught him staring at her. He looked shocked, as though he had not expected Bulma to cover for his actions, despicable as they had been towards her, it was only on the basis that he had let her go that Bulma decided not to reveal the truth to the Saiyan King.

Letting out a concentrated breath, Bulma leveled her eyes as she stared across the room at the Saiyan Prince, trying her hardest not to raise her thin blue eyebrows in a sarcastic manner at him. Though the Prince was making it _difficult_.

Prince Vegeta seemed to enjoy this, however, for he proceeded to smirk and raise his eyebrows.

“What you _did_ , Woman, was inexcusable, and yet, you still find yourself here…” Prince Vegeta spoke in a low and dangerously quiet voice, but his dark eyes darkened even a shade further and his irises began to fill with directed scorn.

It was a strange combination to behold, and it was making Bulma feel incredibly uneasy as a result.

She swallowed down hard. She could tell by the look on the Saiyan monkey’s face he’d not forgotten that she’d talked back to him, or what he had attempted to do to her, and would have, were it not for the fact that he had seemingly changed his mind.

The King had gone silent, his elbows propped up on the rectangular wooden table, his head resting in his hands, though a look of intrigue glittered in his darkened, narrowed eyes. It seemed he was interested in watching this exchange between his son and the woman and how it played out.

The Saiyan King wanted to see how she handled him.

Bulma’s only consolation that she could assuage herself of the guilt she felt for her part in how that situation had transpired was that at least, for the moment, the Prince seemed a lot more collected than he had earlier in his chambers and had either justified his actions or blamed her for whatever the hell was bothering him right now. Probably the latter if she had to guess. She swallowed thickly down past the lump in her throat as the Saiyan Prince slowly rose from his chair, his gaze narrowed at her, a shadow darting across half his face while the other half remained bathed in light as the Saiyan stalked his way towards Bulma.

He looked every bit like a panther stalking his prey, and in this case, Bulma was Vegeta’s prey. It took Bulma a second or two for her to realize that the Prince was expecting an explanation. She swallowed, though her tongue felt like clay in her mouth, she dared not revert her gaze.

She would have moved away from him as he approached, but she did not want to give the insufferable alien humanoid the satisfaction at all. The Saiyan Prince raised his eyebrows and looked blankly towards Bulma, which only confused her further. Why the hell wasn’t the Prince angrier with her for getting away with this?

Where was this so-called ‘punishment’ he’d spoken of? Not that Bulma was really complaining, but… he was almost seeming way too detached, not at all like the manner he’d exhibited earlier.

“If I could ask you a couple of things,” he muttered, gesturing for Bulma to sit back down.

“Sure,” Bulma answered a little defensively, not sure where this shift in his countenance came from, but Bulma did as she was told and took a seat in front of the Prince’s father. “What do you want to know?” she asked, feeling like there was a gag on her mouth. She thought it amazing she could even speak at all as she looked at the Prince.

“Why do you think you’re still here, Woman?” Prince Vegeta asked Bulma calmly, yet there was a cold, strangely calculating look to him.

“Because you saved me,” Bulma answered automatically. It took all of her courage not to avoid the Saiyan Prince’s piercing, darkened gaze.

“Hmm,” he grunted, nodding his head slowly in agreement. He paused, as though attempting to figure out something that vexed him. After a moment, the Prince looked to her again. “And why do you think that I saved you?” he asked, his almost nonchalant gaze turning intense as he continued to stare at her fixated.

Bulma paused, unable to shake the feeling like the Prince was more or less interrogating her, and yet at the same time, she knew that he really seemed to be listening to her. He’d remembered. Bulma wasn’t sure how she felt about it.

“I don’t know,” she admitted, shrugging her shoulders, and looked down at her hands resting in her lap, fidgeting with the skirt of her blue toga.

She wondered if Vegeta would let her keep it. It really _was_ quite pretty and matched her hair.

“To…satiate your _needs_?” she questioned, quirking a thin blue eyebrow at the Prince. “I assume that’s why you brought me here. It wasn’t for my mind, and judging by the way you reacted earlier, I’d say it’s been a while since you got your rocks off, if _ever_ ,” she grumbled darkly, eyes flashing.

There was a long, drawn-out pause before Vegeta continued, his face flushing red in anger at her comment about his frustrations. The intensity in his black eyes seemed to lighten up, at least a little bit, and in his eyes, the intensity was replaced with something else.

A vague emotion that Bulma couldn’t place, and it was starting to unnerve her.

If she were being honest with herself, Bulma was unable to pinpoint the Saiyan Prince’s reaction to her statement she’d uttered without really thinking. She’d assumed the Prince had kidnapped her for sex. Why _else_ would he have need of her?

Bulma had expected him to scoff at her, roll his eyes at her, maybe even be pleased with the self-deprecation, but the Saiyan Prince merely grunted in response and exchanged a dark look with the King before reverting his gaze to Bulma.

“You truly hold such a low opinion of yourself, Woman?” he growled, sounding irate.

“No, I _don’t_ ,” Bulma snapped impatiently, feeling the familiar hot spark of anger well within the pit of her churning stomach. Why was the Prince asking her all of these questions? Why was he even speaking to her? Wasn’t she brought here to serve as his slave?!?

She’d figured after their last little encounter, he would have killed her by now, or dismissed her and left her to fend back in West City on her own against that Lord Frieza and the rest of his army. There was a part of Bulma that would have been more than happy with that arrangement if that were to be the case.

This so-called ‘Prince of All Saiyans’ was an arrogant, pompous asshole. Something about his presence, especially at such close proximity like this, set her on edge. Bulma looked bravely into the Prince’s eyes. Aged thirty, maybe more. Close enough to her own age, maybe a little bit older. It was hard to tell.

His face was not princely, she observed, but he had the build of a guy she’d always imagined embracing, back when she was just a stupid girl with stupid dreams about making things work with Yamcha, at the thought that someone could love her back.

She almost laughed and rolled her eyes to herself at Yamcha daring to love anything but himself, the pompous womanizing prick dickwad. This Saiyan Prince had black eyes, and the furtive look he shot her was one of suspicion, like a fire trying to be extinguished but hardly able to.

And she remembered how the Saiyan’s fingers had caressed the skin of her cheek, the inner demons at the back of her mind screamed.

She shivered, but not with the cold in the room that settled over them like a suffocating poison. She waited with gritted teeth for him to speak, but it didn’t come. Prince Vegeta seemed to be waiting for her to answer him.

“I’ve never…been a… _slave_ to a Saiyan Prince before, it's not something we strive for on my home planet,” Bulma stammered, suddenly growing flustered and wishing the floor beneath her sandals would open up and swallow her whole and not let her come out. “It’s simply a fact. I thought you wanted...me.”

Her face flushed a bright pink as she spat the words. Bulma hadn’t realized it while speaking to the Prince, with the King remaining silent, little more than a background observer at this point, but despite her steadfast determination to remain as calm and stoic as possible, she’d looked away from Prince Vegeta.

Realizing her mistake, she turned her gaze back to the Saiyan Prince, only to find the insufferable arrogant git was smirking at her. He’d relaxed his posture, the tension in his shoulders dissipating. He leaned forward on the balls of his feet so that the tips of their noses almost touched.

She was momentarily taken aback by how short the stubborn Saiyan was. Just barely an inch or two taller than her. He was quite short, by Saiyan standards.

_Goku’s a lot taller than this one. Maybe that’s why he’s angry all the time? Does he have a short man complex?!?_

This entire situation was utterly ridiculous, and if Bulma had met the Prince of All Saiyans during any other scenario here on Earth, she was sure she would have no doubt fallen to her knees or bowed.

She’d have not dared utter a single syllable. But something about her new situation strangely set her at ease, though she couldn’t place the emotion.

It was clear the Prince held some kind of a vested interest in keeping her around, though whether his needs were purely physical or otherwise, he’d not made his intentions clear. Bulma couldn’t be sure, but she was sure the worst was over by insulting him and rejecting him.

“You’re troublesome, Woman, in other words,” the Saiyan Prince concluded, his voice sharp and curt, but not exactly angry with her, which Bulma supposed was better than nothing. “Not surprising, Woman, given your _behavior_.”

Bulma’s blue eyes widened in anger as she felt something ugly begin to rise within herself. She couldn’t stop herself from responding in a passionate fury, her shoulders almost heaving.

“Look, Vegeta, your behavior wasn’t very ‘princely’ towards me earlier. I apologize for losing my temper and I’m aware I shouldn’t have talked back to you like that, but I wasn’t the only one at fault! What you tried to do was dishonorable!”

She knew the moment the words were out of her mouth that they’d clearly hit their mark. Bulma watched as he startled and jumped at hearing her utter his name. Now Prince Vegeta really _did_ seem irritated. His previous smug nature was quickly replaced by something much darker, and Bulma recognized it.

“You feel like I’ve treated you unfairly so far, don’t you, Woman?” spat the Saiyan Prince, leaning in even closer, close enough to kiss her.

She shuddered, her nails digging into the skin of her palms, thinking he’d get hit if he tried.

Bulma was about to respond with a ‘yes,’ though the Saiyan Prince sounded oddly… _hurt_. Yes. There was no other word for it. Almost like she’d found his weak spot, maybe, but what that was, she couldn’t figure it out. Did Saiyans have weaknesses other than the sensitivity of their tails?

But this one didn’t _have_ a tail, she noted. Some buddy of Goku’s had cut it off at one point. She blinked at the Prince, parting her lips open slightly to speak, though Vegeta cut her off, taking advantage of the moment of Bulma’s reluctance and hesitance to offer up her answer.

“I don’t wish to discuss in detail what happened. We were _both_ there. I don’t need to justify my actions to you, Woman. Your race is beneath ours. It’s clear you think me to be a beast, a merciless monkey brute,” spat Prince Vegeta, his voice seething with hatred as his voice shook in ire.

Bulma had no idea what to say to that, so she favored silence as the only response, thinking it best. She was already on edge and in hot water with him as it was.

“I’m not as heartless a monster as your people would have you believe. I thought you were aware of the universe that we lived in, but perhaps I was mistaken in that regard. You’re _naïve_ , girl.”

Bulma stammered and struggled to think of a retort. Several came to her mind, and none of them were good enough to describe the fury she felt. She let out a shaking breath and bit at her lip. The _nerve_ and _audacity_ of this stupid prince!

She couldn’t stand this ‘Prince of All Saiyans’ and his arrogant and pretentious ways! Who the bloody hell did he think he _was_ , her own personal _god_?!?

Bulma almost talked back to her new master for the second time in the first night of her ‘employment’ under the Saiyan Prince, but she managed to refrain herself. She just wanted him to dismiss her, so that she could flee this place and start preparing what she needed to help the King with making Lord Frieza vulnerable from the inside out. Let Vegeta think of her whatever the hell he wanted, what he thought of her wasn’t her concern.

“Bulma,” continued Prince Vegeta, causing the daughter of Dr. Briefs to flinch away.

It felt strange yet… strangely _nice_ to hear the Prince say her name. The Prince sanguinely lifted his head, having looked away a moment, and turned his smoldering, fathomless pits of black that were his eyes back to Bulma, narrowing his cold gaze.

“You openly defied my authority, attempted to _hit_ your _god_. You’ll be _punished_ in a manner I deem appropriate, make no mistake of that, Woman,” Vegeta growled through gritted teeth as he leaned even further, so now, their noses really were touching. Out of instinct, Bulma took a half step back away from him, with the Prince copying her movements, not letting her retreat. “You—”

But Bulma did not give Prince Vegeta a chance to finish his sentence. “I might be under your servitude, pal, but I’m _not_ your personal sex doll if you even know what that _is_! I _doubt_ it considering you don’t even look like you know what goes where! You sure _looked_ surprised earlier when you touched me!” retorted Bulma, her shrill voice rising angrily, smirking inwardly at the look of shock on his face. “I had every right to refuse you earlier!”

Vegeta’s face reddened in rage, a vein in his neck throbbing and along his forehead as he gaped at her. “How—how _dare_ you speak back to me like this? Do you have no idea of the sense of your position here?” he shouted. “Are you that _stupid_?”

Bulma swore she heard the King let out a snort through his nose, but she paid it no mind and kept her gaze fixed on Vegeta.

“I’m not _stupid_ , buddy, far from it, guy, so why don’t you lighten up?” Bulma huffed, feeling frustration and anger rise within her chest, threatening to bubble to the surface. “Of course, I’m aware of my position, but just because I’m a woman and a human from Earth doesn’t make me a lesser person, a being lower than you with no free will of my own, pal!” she shouted angrily.

Bulma could feel herself start to pant as she struggled and failed to control the anger rising within, her pale blue eyes darkening, almost cerulean in color as she glared at the Saiyan Prince with all the disgust and hate she could muster up.

Prince Vegeta, looking every bit the brute Bulma had suspected him to be, reeled back on his eyes, rage on his features, his eyes full to the brim with a horrible cynicism as his black irises darkened. “Woman,” he growled quietly, though Bulma could sense a sudden shift within himself. “You are sorely _mistaken_ if you have deluded yourself into thinking that you’ve any free will in this place. I can see it in your eyes. You think me no more than a _monster_ , a _brute_ , so be it, then.”

He looked as though he wanted to say more, though as he folded his hands behind his back, he turned to his father and addressed the Saiyan King.

“Father,” he snarled, his rough voice the embodiment of the grave. “I would like to take this Woman as my _mate_ if it would please you. You’ve prattled on for too long how you think I shirk my duties to our people by remaining unmatched and heirless. Not anymore. This one, she is to be _mine_ if you consent to the match, Father,” Prince Vegeta growled, lifting his gaze only slightly to catch sight of Bulma’s mouth dropping in shock as the Saiyan Prince towered over Bulma in the room.

Bulma felt her face drain of what little color was left as her jaw dropped in shock, her gaze flitting between the Saiyan Prince’s father and Vegeta.

“What on _earth_ \--?!?” Bulma bellowed, balling her fists at her sides to stop them shaking.

Prince Vegeta’s head whiplashed sharply to the left to regard Bulma with a truly scathing look.

“That’s not a request, Woman. Perhaps I could be crueler to you still if I were of a mind to, but luckily for _you_ , if I’m being honest, I rather _like_ your feistiness,” he sneered. “Saiyans only like strong women, we’re wired that way. I’ve not met a woman, let alone a weakling _human_ female could manage to land a solid blow to Nappa’s eye, let alone blacken it,” Vegeta snorted, almost sounding amused. “My only regret is that I wasn’t there myself to see it.” Sensing his servant woman was not yet convinced that he wasn’t insane, there was a method to his madness, he pressed on. “It is a mutually beneficial arrangement the benefits us both,” Vegeta snarled, imploring the woman to prove to him that she wasn’t stupid and to see reason. “In case it isn’t clear to you, let me make a few things plain,” he snorted, finding it difficult not to roll his eyes at the look of shock on her face. “When we are mated, you are marked as _mine_ ,” Vegeta snarled possessively. “No one will hurt you as long as you are mine and I am yours. You will be _safe_ , and free to work on my ship unencumbered without worrying about… _others_.”

Prince Vegeta did not specify, though Bulma could tell the Saiyan Prince was thinking of Raditz.

“What _else_ do I get?” Bulma snapped in a huff, folding her thin arms across her chest in agitation. She could hardly believe her hearing. Had she gone deaf?

Was he actually proposing… _marriage_?!? 

He looked as though he almost wanted to laugh at her but was managing to restrain himself. His voice was crude and gruff.

“The pleasure of my company. Which I’m told is quite exquisite. In human terms, I am proposing marriage. Do you accept?” Prince Vegeta smirked, a hint of smugness seeping its way back to the surface of his voice. _He’s beginning to sound like his old self now_ , Bulma thought angrily, biting her lip.

Vegeta felt the Woman shy away in hesitation, playing with her pinkish-tipped fingers and biting down on her bottom lip in a way that was causing the mad beast within his mind to begin pacing restlessly, with the girl unknowing of how it sent a horrible ache between his legs.

But then the Woman looked at him with an emotion that he could only perceive as venomous and hatred in those icy blue eyes of hers, labeling him, but then, why wouldn’t she? Prince Vegeta, alongside Lord Frieza and his Frieza Force, had turned on her entire planet, voluntarily engaging in butchering other humans.

He had forcefully removed her from her own home, fully intending to claim her as _his_.

Vegeta half expected Bulma to grow fangs of her own and dig them into the skin of his neck. One look at his father was more than enough. King Vegeta had been rendered speechless. If it weren’t for the need that his family line needed continuing, King Vegeta would have just let Vegeta live a bachelor the rest of his life.

He would never deserve this strong-willed human willing to go against Frieza as his wife.

But now, as King Vegeta looked towards the daughter of the Earth scientist, little but fierce, he could almost imagine the unbridled joy of his son, insane and ravaging to taste her blood on their wedding night once the ceremony had commenced and the pair were behind closed doors by themselves.

He would want to see the last picture of the earth girl smiling, for she’d never smile again if he consented to this match, and yet, if he allowed Vegeta to take this woman as his bride, it was very likely their best shot at their freedom.

If this female were as smart as she claimed and could follow up her words with her actions and assist in weakening Frieza, usurping his rule from the inside with her knowledge of technology, both alien and Earthen, then they might stand a chance at freeing not only their people but the entire rest of the universe.

And life could go on.

Under normal circumstances, King Vegeta would have balked at his eldest son’s desire to mate with a non-Saiyan female, though considering there were so few of them left in number, forced to scatter like insects to other planets to make lives for themselves, his son had little choice in the matter.

 _She is certainly better than Tarble’s choice of a wife_ , King Vegeta thought bitterly to himself, shaking his head. “I approve of the match, Vegeta,” came the King’s voice, sounding faint and muffled, as though he were speaking to them from underwater. “You may take this one as your mate.”

The hair-raising scream that erupted from the Woman caused both father and son's ears to twitch. They flinched but said nothing.

“This is _insane_! You’re _nuts_ , every one of you! What—what the hell are you playing at?!? The world’s gone _insane_!” Bulma screeched, feeling her head jerk sharply upward so fast that Vegeta had to move back to avoid his head connecting with hers.

“This world is _already_ insane, Woman,” growled Prince Vegeta. “You never answered me. Do you accept?”

“I….” Bulma wracked her brain trying to think of something to say. The word was out of her mouth before she could stop herself. “ _Fine_!” she shouted, her anger getting the better of her. “We’ll do this _your_ way, but make no _mistake_ , I’m _only_ doing this to save my family and my home.”

The Prince gave her one last scathing look, though he turned to his father and offered an awkward little half-bow before swiftly turning on the heels of his boots and exiting the mess hall, letting the door slam so hard behind him, the damned thing actually fell off its hinges with the sheer force and strength of the Prince’s slam.

Bulma stared at the door as it fell to the floor with a loud resounding _thud_ , splinters of wood breaking apart from the door. She had to immediately shield her face with her arms to avoid being injured by the shards of wood from the now-ruined door.

The King looked at Vegeta’s future bride and mate with a quizzical look as she lowered her hands from her face, staring at the ruined door. She really was a beautiful thing. Tiny, yes, but there was a jagged ring of silver in her blue eyes that glittered like seashells.

This woman, this human, Bulma, was fit for his son than any other. Though she was a human, King Vegeta considered himself to be a Saiyan of good character. This one was forged from steel and molded with a god’s delicate hand. Beauty and danger in one package. Her pink lips dripped avarice as she turned her wrathful glower towards Prince Vegeta’s father.

“It’s _not_ going to happen, buddy. I don’t care if you are a Saiyan King or a god. I won’t! I only said that to calm him down, so he didn’t do anything _stupid_ , like blow up the whole bloody place with us inside of it, you feel me?” she hissed through clenched teeth.

“My dear.” King Vegeta reached out a surprisingly calm hand and gripped onto her shoulder. She flinched, though didn’t shirk away. “It must. My son is right. This is the only way.”

Her stomach lurched and coiled as if she’d swallowed poison, and this time, she did recoil. Immediately, she snapped and ducked out from his grip. “The lot of you are mad. Insane!”

“I am _dying_ , Woman,” the Saiyan King proclaimed. “I am _old_. I cannot go on like this. I had hoped to ensure to see both my sons married before my time is upon me, to see them both live good lives and sire heirs to continue our peoples’ line. You are the most fit for my son. He will accept no other at his mate. It is pointless to change Vegeta's mind, child. His mind is already made up. I saw it in his mind, read his thoughts,” King Vegeta’s voice grew small.

“I might slit his _throat_ while he sleeps,” Bulma spat poisonously, hardly daring to believe the turn this night had taken. She couldn’t go through with this.

To marry… _him_?!? No way!

The King shot her a sympathetic but saddened look. “Do that, Woman, and you’ve doomed us all, girl.” She choked back her tears and anger with a single swallow of her throat. “This is the way, my dear. It is time you accept it as fact. Others would not get within a foot of Lord Frieza, but as long as you are marked as Vegeta’s, no one will hurt you. It’s a complicated process, we Saiyans are _difficult_ to please, but I have the utmost of confidence in your abilities as his new mate.”

“Can’t he get someone else?” Bulma wailed, near close to hysterics. The Saiyan Prince might be handsome enough, but he was a total bastard.

“He needs a queen, girl, not a simple muse. Queens leads their husbands when they go astray. On our planet, our women fight for their mate. Vegeta has never before claimed any interest in taking a mate until…. you,” he murmured thoughtfully.

He did not sound angry with this development, but more so amused than anything. “Queens remind kings not to shirk their duties, whereas muses are weak and stupid and good for one thing only. Muses don’t give a damn when their husbands are sick. My son, Prince Vegeta, is rather _ill_ , my dear.”

“Then let him _die_ ,” Bulma spat angrily. King Vegeta fell silent, not sure what to say to her hostility. Bulma turned away and exhaled a shaking breath through her nose, squeezing her eyes shut. She wished Goku were here.

The ornery Saiyan always had the ability to know what to say to make her feel better and even laugh on occasion. She could use some of that right about now.

“This is too much, Highness.” Her voice was flat and listless as she spoke, devoid of emotion.

“Think of this as my people entrusting the humans,” King Vegeta offered. “By agreeing to my son’s request to take you as his mate, I am entrusting you with my son’s care and his life, something that is not given so freely, child. You are all that’s left to rule with my son and lead him to our and your peoples’ salvation—your own, too. It _has_ to be my son, and I think you know it, too. My other boy, Tarble, is a low-class Saiyan warrior and has no hopes of reaching the levels Vegeta is capable of. It _cannot_ be him. It _has_ to be Vegeta.”

“But he’s a _worm_ , Your Highness!” Bulma spoke up bitterly, swallowing thickly past the lump in her throat, her tongue feeling dry in her mouth.

“And if he does not do this, if you do not do this for me, for our people and yours, the birds will peck at my son. I cannot allow that, my dear,” King Vegeta continued speaking calmly, reaching out his hand and gripping her shoulder. She trembled beneath his tight grip. “My son is a good Saiyan, deep down. A _good_ _man_. But he needs _guidance_. He needs a worthwhile mate like you. You _will_ do this. Or you will have doomed us all.” His piece said, his tone held a formidable line of finality bordering on almost indifference, that conveyed to Bulma the matter was settled. She was going to have to do this.

To marry _him_. To save her family and her friends. Bulma was left alone in the mess hall as King Vegeta strode out the entryway, now doorless, leaving her by herself to stare at the door in a stupefied stupor. Krillin had been right. Vegeta wasn’t _just_ a monster. He was out of his damned mind _insane_.

And she was about to _marry_ this monster, and this time…Goku wasn’t saving her.

She was on her own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sneaky Vegeta... XD Talk about a fitting punishment, indeed.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, we get to see a little bit of angry Vegeta, which I had a lot of fun writing. Though let's be honest, Vegeta's always grumpy XD but I do enjoy those moments when he goes full rage-mode. Vegeta is still struggling with these foreign 'feelings' and what they mean for him, but I hope to explore a (slightly) softer side of our favorite Prince of All Saiyans soon! :D

**6**

**BULMA** was not the only one questioning the Saiyan King’s son’s actions. The Prince stalked down the hallway that led away from this place’s mess hall in a rage, furious at what just happened. He clenched and unclenched his hands at his sides while he walked.

Normally, in a rage, he would have flown to get away from his thoughts that much faster, but if Vegeta was being honest with himself, he wanted the added time to think. Vegeta was in the middle of trying to clear his mind, to figure out what had prompted him to blurt out the fact that he was ordering her to marry him.

What the hell had he been _thinking_?!? _You will mate with me?_ Prince Vegeta gnashed his teeth together and growled in frustration as he flung open the set of front doors that led out onto the hilltop of this place’s estate, stomping his way quite furiously to the back of the property, hoping Nappa or Raditz would be willing to spar with him.

He had _frustrations_ to get rid of, to put it lightly, though he highly doubted his fellow Saiyans would be able to help him with the whelming ache in between his legs that came on whenever that insufferable Woman opened her mouth and yelled at him. Vegeta paused, closing his eyes as a waft of cold air drifted towards him, tousling his thick tuft of wild jet-black hair, and he allowed a moment for the worst of the tension in his shoulders to relax as he thought of Bulma.

This was the second or third time he had met this strange creature and had more or less lost his nerve, and as a result, had acted out irrationally. So much that Vegeta was hardly in control of his own thoughts or his actions. He could not understand his new behavior.

The Woman was his servant, for god’s sake! Comparing himself to that wretched pathetic creature was like comparing a majestic lion to a weakling little brown mouse. He had no good reason to be rattled by her outbursts, but every time he saw the blue-haired beauty, he just… he _never_ should have paid attention to her. Vegeta knew he should have let Frieza just kill her back there and that was that. _Why_ had he saved her life that day It was nonsensical, and he bloody well knew it.

Stalking his way out onto the grounds wanting to put as much distance between this palace he and the others had found upon landing on Earth a few weeks ago and himself, just in case in his burning rage he accidentally broke something else. The further he walked, the Prince felt his anger slowly melt away as a new thought entered into his mind.

Furrowing his dark eyebrows in an intense concentration, he skidded to a halt, sending a shower of pebbles and grass and dirt everywhere with the sheer force of how he dug the heels of his boots into the ground, causing an indentation in the ground, and stopped dead in his tracks to think about it.

Come to think of it, he hadn’t exactly asked her or followed through with the traditional Saiyan method of courting before eventually mating, or what the humans would deem as marrying them. On their home planet of Vegeta, the females were the ones who took initiative when it came to romantic relationships if they were interested in a particular male, the men waited for the women to make the first move, but Vegeta had not done that.

Yes, that’s right. He had gotten so angry with her temper that almost rivaled that of his own, that he had more or less yelled at her that he intended to take her for his mate before turning to Father to approve the match. He was more than a little shocked (though he’d never dare admit it) that his father had approved of the human woman.

Letting out a frustrated and haggard breath, Prince Vegeta lifted a hand to his brow as he felt his temples start to throb.

Suddenly, sparring was the last thing he wanted to do right now with this headache.

Vegeta couldn’t understand where this was coming from. How when she had accepted, he’d caught a brief glimpse of the pleading look in her bright blue eyes, and that familiar warmth in his chest was back. It left him with a feeling of truly overwhelming and amazing conflict.

The look of bitterness she had given him was a brand new injury. A brand new humiliation. A part of him felt almost shattered now.

But at the same time, there was a feeling of satisfaction. Triumph. Smug glory. The Woman was going to be _his_.

She was not going to continue to get away with her silly little outbursts and uncouth mannerisms once they were mated and she was _his_.

He paused. It wasn’t exactly like Vegeta was necessarily ashamed that he’d spoken to his servant woman in an authoritative manner, but by the time the Saiyan Prince had managed to come to his senses, he’d begun to speak to her in the way he ought to have right from the start, as every master did towards their slaves.

However, considering the overwhelming desire to make the female Earth woman his, a desire that was foreign to him and one that he could not articulate, he was left with this sense of conflict and no idea what to do. His hands trembled with rage as he swore he caught sight of his Woman stomping her way towards the edge of the property on the other side of the estate, there was that familiar flash of bright blue out of the corner of his peripherals that caught his eye and made him freeze.

His eyes found her pretty face, though her slender profile was turned to the side. If the Woman would have turned her head, she would have seen him. He almost wanted her to turn, and yet, he didn’t.

_Don’t. Don't look. Just...don't._

He shot it like a silent prayer to whichever god was listening to him. He did not want his future mate to see him so unhinged. His heart rate accelerated.

His body continued to produce sweat. His body still ached. The discomfort lingered. If only Vegeta could understand it. Looking at her, from the moment she had looked at him kneeling in the middle of the street shortly before he’d saved her life, it had done something to him that Vegeta couldn’t understand.

The soft swells of her body, the gentle curves. The smooth skin, flawless and untouched. He wanted to touch it, to feel it, wanted it pressed closer to him. Vegeta thought about following her to ensure she didn’t try to escape, but he wasn’t in a clear enough mindset to hold another conversation with the Woman just yet. He had a feeling if he were to try, it would end up with her dead with both his hands wound around the girl’s throat. Vegeta felt his very hands tremble with rage at the thought of what the Woman inside had suggested.

It was also a concept that was almost unfathomable and yet, the more his mind dwelled on it, it made sense. She was the perfect plant. No one would suspect a human woman capable of tampering with King Cold’s son's inner workings while he went under for his upgrades. She was braver than he’d first believed her to be. To put herself into the crosshairs of Lord Frieza, considering she was powerless, she wasn’t strong in the traditional Saiyan sense, was a suicide mission. His father was right in that regard, but it was their chance.

He wanted to _kill_ Lord Frieza for what he had done. Again, and again and again and again. To blast the lizard freak into oblivion, or even better, bash his stupid skull against a cliff. Vegeta wanted to hear the bones crack, to watch the ground turn crimson with his blood.

He wanted to see Frieza’s brain matter paint the ground and know that Frieza had died by his power, his hands.

 _Certainly not Kakarot’s_ , Vegeta sneered angrily. Not wanting to think of Frieza as he felt his power start to course through his veins, Vegeta let out a low rumbling growl threaten to escape his chest, throat, and lips, and he throttled his urge to roar like an enraged dragon. He had to think of something other than Frieza.

Out of control of his own thoughts, his mind yet again drifted to thoughts of his future mate. If he concentrated close enough, he could almost hear her thoughts as though the Woman were next to him. Could hear her voice. Vegeta allowed himself to imagine the phantasm of the cerulean-haired and blue-eyed beauty, strangely enjoying the peace wallowing in his soul, a strange sensation he had never experienced. Every muscle in his body was tense as he imagined the Woman’s voice, speaking to only him.

“ _I’m not going to leave_ ,” she was saying to him. Every cord pulled taut against Vegeta’s lean but muscular form. He readied his stance, prepared to launch into flight and pounce at the slightest sign she meant to flee his side. At any hint that his future mate was _lying_.

Even her voice in his mind was _scared_. Of _him_. The phantasm image of her now standing before her god and future king trembled at the mere sight of him in front of her. He bent his head, his shoulders hunched forward. A bead of sweat rolled down the back of his thick neck.

Vegeta sanguinely lifted his head and came to step forward in front of his sexually frustrated hallucination, hardly daring to believe this was his mate.

He did not believe her yet. She was going to _leave_ him. It was in her eyes.

The Woman was terrified of him. Inferior races were scared of him, as they rightfully should be frightened of the Prince of All Saiyans. They always got that same look in their eyes.

“You _lie_ ,” Prince Vegeta whispered, hardly daring to believe he was entertaining his mind’s delusions, shivering through gritted teeth, hatred and seething anger dripping from his voice as he lifted his chin to look the Woman in the eyes, not wanting to drown in the pools of blue, though it was increasingly hard to resist a look.

“ _I told you I won’t, Vegeta_ ,” her voice told him.

Upon hearing the blue-haired celestial creature’s words, especially his name on her luscious-looking pink lips, his breathing quickened as his breaths caught in his throat. He sucked in large breaths in through his nose, his lungs burning for the purity of the biting cold air around him, hoping the coolness would quell the fiery ache in between his legs and especially in his chest as it constricted, feeling like it was cutting off air to his lungs.

Vegeta could not explain the warmth in his body whenever he looked at the prickly woman with the blue hair as bright as the Saiyan skies above his head back home or _used_ to be until Frieza destroyed his planet. This strange emotion that his father and others would call… _happiness_.

Had he deemed the information worthy enough, Vegeta would have informed someone he was feeling the emotion he’d heard Father say multiple times in private conversations was beyond him. Though it was puzzling to him how, considering he’d been stricken with this foreign feeling in his chest, what he felt was ‘wrong’ for the human earth woman, what he felt was…was…

He paused and looked to the apparition of the Woman, wishing she were really here. His fingers twitched. His lips parted and his body hardened. He jumped back, feeling startled at what was happening to him. _Just a little closer_.

He just…wanted to be a little closer, to bask in her warmth and bottle it for himself. Her pale skin was so soft, unlike anything he’d felt before. Vegeta had never been so confused. If he had wanted to take her as a mate, he should have spoken in a somewhat more gentlemanly before blurting it out.

Given the Woman’s prickly nature, she was hardly going to want to be bonded to him for life if he had more or less barked at her. Vegeta deserved to dig up a hole and bury himself in it for his utter stupidity.

Vegeta had never suffered from these types of problems before. Partly because almost no one dared to talk back to the Prince of All Saiyans before, and as for women, they feared and reviled him, or they fawned over him and did what they could to get an ounce of his attention, though he had ignored each and every one of them. Prince Vegeta had always been aware of his position as heir to his father’s throne and the rule over what was left of their race, aware of his rank in society.

He’d always become aware of those lesser beings who were beneath him and not worth any of his time, not worth anything, and never before had a pretty face and a fiery personality of a female affected him like this. The Woman was unlike any female Vegeta had ever encountered before. And this was not exactly in a good way.

He’d only been in her presence three times now, and each time, Vegeta seemed to forget who he was. Even who she was. What she was in his eyes. It was more than a little disconcerting and made Vegeta feel on edge.

His future mate made him feel rather… _nervous_. No matter how much Prince Vegeta deep down regretted his behavior towards her earlier in his chambers, however, he could not reverse the clock. Part of him felt grateful the celestial beauty had looked upon him with scorn as though he were not worth her time, little more than dirt on the bottom of her open-toed sandal. In truth, though, the Woman was wrong to think of him in those terms, but he’d been too stunned and at a loss to react rationally the first time he met her.

Bulma Briefs was far too outspoken, but somehow, she managed to get away with it. Thrice now.

The Prince almost smiled. Well, not a _fourth_ time. He wasn’t going to let her get away with it a fourth time. Perhaps he’d wanted to mate with her to challenge the woman from Earth. Find out what it was about the girl that made Vegeta feel like he was unraveling, the very sight and scent of her sending his mind insane.

It was almost like a battle, and he’d let her win. Vegeta smirked, the corners of his lips tugging upward in a twisted smirk as he folded his arms across his chest.

He was _going_ to learn what her weak spot was, and when he did, he was sure to refocus his attention back towards his ultimate goal: becoming a Legendary Super Saiyan and defeating Lord Frieza and his forces. That was all that entailed.

But if _that_ were the case, then why was her image not fleeing his mind and leaving him alone in blessed peace? So intently did Vegeta allow himself to focus on the remembrance of the way the cold skin of her cheek felt against his calloused hand, and for the few moments his delusional mind would allow, he could enjoy the feel and sight of his future mate and imagine that none of this had happened. Though the worst part of all of this, the phantasm image of the Woman his mind had created was leaving him, slipping through his arms as he reached out to touch her, to feel if she was as soft as she looked. He wanted to scream, from frustration and anger, and from fear that the blue-haired beauty would leave.

What was the _point_ of taking a mate if she was not there? If he couldn’t even have a memory of the girl? Vegeta let out a haggard sigh through his flaring nostrils, willing his temper cool, though his ears perked up, his hearing sharp like a wolf’s, his head whiplashing sharply up and to the left upon hearing a male’s low, quiet voice speak.

 _Nappa_ , he thought angrily. His temper was already on a hair's trigger as it was. The last thing he needed was this callous brute butting into his affairs.

“… she _is_ a pretty one, Raditz, isn’t she? Not a classic blonde like the type I thought our Prince likes, but still. The human has a cute slender little nose…”

Prince Vegeta looked up sharply, a grunt escaping his chest, throat, and lips as he was swiftly taken out of his thoughts by the sound of low murmurs coming from the edge of this old place’s property line. The Saiyan Prince’s dark eyes narrowed as he caught sight of Nappa standing alongside Raditz, the shorter of the two resting against the trunk of a tree in an almost swagger-like fashion.

Not at all the posture a Saiyan warrior ought to be adopting, nor did the Prince particularly like the way the other Saiyan’s gaze lingered on _his_ future mate’s backside. His facial muscles hardened, and he felt a muscle in his jaw give a twitch.

Vegeta’s black eyes darkened even further so that the coal-like hue of his irises almost touched at the whites of his eyes, his eyes narrowing into slits as he stalked his way towards them, hidden in the fading light of the sun and darkness encroached on this remote corner of the world. Neither Saiyan saw him move at all.

“You think so, Nap?” Raditz asked, sounding bored and rather unconvinced, which only set Vegeta’s blood boiling in his veins, hotter than any dragon fire could ever flame. “She’s pretty, yes, but you’d be a blind and bloody _fool_ to go near her, Nappa, the Prince made it clear she was _his_. I _know_ you're thinking of doing it. Just don't,” Raditz warned.

The bulky and bald Saiyan made an odd little noise of disbelief at the back of his throat, keeping his arms folded across his chest, and rolled his eyes to himself and Raditz. “Our Prince won’t mate with _that_ one, Raditz, mark my words. She’s too _weak_. She’s not suited for the likes of _Vegeta_. I’ll get her somehow, steal a kiss, maybe even take her tonight.”

Prince Vegeta, who’d been about to lay into the repugnant pig of a Saiyan warrior for resting against the tree when he and Raditz should have been out scouting the planet for any valuable resources they could have used, felt something shift within himself and snap as he flew into a murderous rage as he heard the idiot utter _his_ mate’s name and speak of Bulma in what he believed were odious terms. He couldn’t believe Nappa’s words.

“ **NAPPA**!” Prince Vegeta bellowed, the sheer force of his holler reverberating through the corners of the palace’s grounds, causing even the leaves of the trees to flutter.

Vegeta snarled and growled and was he a mad dog, he surely would have been foaming at the mouth right about now as visions of his future mate with any other Saiyan warrior that wasn’t _him_ flitted in his mind.

Nappa whirled around on his heels, his face draining of color as he heard the Prince’s startled shout. The moment the broader, stockier Saiyan turned to see the cause of their Prince’s anger, his complexion turned ashen, his lips almost blue in this cool autumnal breeze.

His limbs moved as if some inexperienced Saiyan was controlling them and his eyes were wide, looking at Prince Vegeta, right as him, as a matter of fact, but not really. “What? What’s got you riled up, Highness?” spluttered his lieutenant in a confused voice, having no time to react upon seeing his Prince take flight and come barreling down a straight line path towards him and Raditz. Raditz was almost looking amused as Vegeta grabbed onto fistfuls of the Saiyan’s uniform and threw him with little to no effort against a tree behind them.

“ **HOW DARE YOU**? You’re the very _scum_ of our race, Nappa!” growled the young Prince, winding his fingers around Nappa’s throat as rage coursed through his bloodstream, feeling a smirk of satisfaction and victory tug at the corners of his lips as a bone in Nappa’s shoulder broke. “I should _kill_ you here and now for the way you just spoke! Give me one good _reason_ that I should even show you a shred of mercy, _old_ _friend_ ,” he spat.

Raditz’s face had paled in shock, looking completely shellshocked to see their Prince behave like of this of his own volition, and all over a single female. He gaped at his comrade and their Prince, unable to comprehend what was happening before him.

Two seconds ago, they’d been having a completely normal conversation and suddenly out of nowhere, like a beast in the night, their Prince overheard and flow into a rage.

“Vegeta, what the _hell_?!?” roared Prince Vegeta’s unfortunate lieutenant who had crossed several nonnegotiable lines with the thoughtless comment of his Prince's future mate, who was staring in both anger and just a slight twinge of horror dawning on his face, who looked as though he was going to strangle Nappa.

White knuckled in his gloves from clenching his fists too hard and gritted teeth from his effort not to kill him here where they stood, Vegeta’s hunched form exuded an animosity that was like acid—burning, slicing, and deadly. His face was red and mottled from the suppressed rage he felt coupled with the frustrated desire for the prickly little human female he was to take as his mate and when Raditz from somewhere behind him even set a finger on his shoulder, he swung and mentally snapped.

“ **LEAVE**! This doesn’t _concern_ you, Raditz!” He did not give Raditz a chance to intervene on his friend’s behalf as he let out a low warning growl from deep within his chest and turned his gaze back to Nappa, whose face had gone pale. It was like a vexing of the soul for what Vegeta felt wasn’t fit for a prince.

It wasn’t Saiyan, it was twisted and distorted, but it was something strong. It burned so bad like fire lacing his veins and creeping up his spine, his skin was sore-looking red, but all Vegeta could feel was the urge to kill as it pumped through his veins as he looked at Nappa, not sparing Raditz so much as a second glance.

“You listen and listen to me well. _Mark my words,_ Nappa,” growled Vegeta dangerously through gritted teeth, his shoulders heaving, his voice hardly above a whisper. “Your cretinous wormy _mouth_ does not _deserve_ to speak her name, let alone talk of _my_ mate in such disgusting, odious terms, but by doing so, you now find yourself facing my _wrath_ ,” Prince Vegeta snarled savagely, feeling the mad beast within his mind start to roar its approval as he allowed his temper to take over.

The acidity of the hatred welling in his stomach was just waiting to be spat out of his mouth in foul and vulgar words the Prince knew he’d be stared at for saying, except he wasn’t going to say them, he was going to _scream_ them with every ounce of breath that dwelled in his lungs until his shouts shook the very boughs of the trees of the woods that lined the edges of this place's property. Nappa had crossed the nonnegotiable land mind by speaking of _his_ mate that way.

His rage held all the power of a wildfire, Raditz and Nappa could practically see the flames raging in his eyes, ready to ignite anything Prince Vegeta came into contact with.

In this case, that ‘ _something_ ’ happened to be _Nappa_. The witless wonder. All brawn and no brains. The pressure in the Prince’s head finally exploded and he felt the shift within himself give way. The anticipation was always the best part. Vegeta could see it in Nappa’s eyes, watch him thrash under his firm grip.

Vegeta saw Nappa open his mouth, a sheen of sweat thronging along his brow, no doubt to plead with his Prince for _mercy_.

 _Mercy_. Just that word itself made Vegeta’s blood boil. A _true_ Saiyan showed no _mercy_. Did not forgive so lightly, and Vegeta was not about to forgive this offense. If words were anything more than the wind, Vegeta would be the sole god of the universe, and it was mildly aggravating that he _wasn’t_ , but no matter. Half the fun for the Saiyan lay in getting there. His temper imploded along with a blood-curdling scream that set even the fine hairs on the back of his own neck upright and a gash on Nappa’s neck. He dove at Nappa, winding his arms around his middle and taking to the skies with him, hoping to spare the Woman, if she was still out here on the grounds, the sight of bloodshed.

Again, and again, he plunged his fists into Nappa’s burly chest with such a raging passion that made his pupils shrink.

A strange series of memories flitted within his mind, as though he were watching them through the communications screen on the bridge of his father’s ship, along with it equaled a hard ripping and crunching sound as his fist went straight through Nappa’s chest, his gloves coming out bloody, slimy, clutching his intestines.

The guttural growl from Nappa that emerged from his throat as he turned his head to the side to spit out a mouthful of crimson blood quickly morphed into a choked scream was like sweet music to Vegeta’s ears. The memories continued playing in his mind.

His mother before her death when Vegeta was only three or so, really too young to remember her, just visions of her face, the occasional kind word or two, sunsets on planet Vegeta before Frieza had blown it up, his violent training exploits, finding this Woman to take as his mate, and now learning she might not be his…

King Cold and Frieza controlling their people, blowing up Planet Vegeta, his father, and him more or less forced into servitude to these disgusting, wretched lizards.

The _Woman_. _Bulma_. A fiery temper, yet sweet as the sunrise, and now she was being targeted by _Nappa_.

Vegeta blinked and came back to himself as he realized Nappa’s mouth was dripping blood, choking on his own fluid. His lips twisted upward in a vicious sneer and his grip tightened on a fistful of Nappa’s clothing.

“You…” Nappa’s eyes were rolling in the back of his head as Vegeta continued delivering blow after blow, barely giving the taller, broader Saiyan a chance to recover. “You want me…tell you…the truth? You…don’t…. deserve that blue-haired female as your mate, Veg…eta...” Right now, Nappa was losing what little color was left in his face. “Burn…in…hell…” A drop of blood and vomit dripped down Nappa’s chins.

Prince Vegeta threw back his head and laughed to disguise the growing rage that swelled in his chest until he thought he might burst. “I haven't even _killed_ you yet and I see you quiver, you _coward_. How _weak_ you are, Nappa. You’re _nothing_. This isn't cruelty, this is mercy and justice combined. You cannot _control_ yourself and so _I_ control _you_. Fight me and you _know_ I'll win, or maybe you like gambling? It's a _sin_ , you know, to look at another Saiyan’s _mate_ , let alone _mine_ , don’t you know? You really _are_ as stupid as they come, Nappa! Did I take in my words to you, Nappa?!?” Prince Vegeta snarled through his clenched teeth.

Wanting this little farce to be over with so quickly, Vegeta relinquished his grip on Nappa and let his now-bloodless fading body fall back down to the earth, his blood-slimy hands remained at his sides as Vegeta slowly flew and followed Nappa’s limp body as Nappa let out one last gasping, ragged choking breath, and his chest rose and fell for the last time, and the Saiyan died at his Prince's feet. Vegeta landed gently next to Nappa’s body, kicking aside the man’s leg with this boot, spitting on his face.

“You’re a disgrace to our race, Nappa. See you in _hell_ sometime. _Friend_ ,” he spat, his head whiplashing sharply upward to regard Raditz, whose face had turned bloodless. The taller Saiyan’s face was spoiled by the intense psychological disturbance staring at the monster Prince Vegeta had made of himself by killing Nappa just now. Nappa laid on the blood-soaked floor with a huge gaping hole in his chest, his dead irises staring at the sky, the massive cavity adorned where his heart was. Vegeta did not give Raditz a chance to speak.

"Your Highness," Raditz started to say, his hands raised in self-defense in the hopes of calming the Prince's raging temper, though the shorter Saiyan interjected, cutting him off.

“What about _you_?” he shouted, stalking towards Raditz, feeling an electrical tingling surging through his fingertips, his dark eyes flashing as he rolled his neck to crack it and ease the stiffness. “You would look at another Saiyan’s _mate_ like _Nappa_ tried to?!? **ANSWER ME!** ”

“No—” Raditz started to say, but he was cut off.

“ _Good_ , Raditz, because if I _ever_ see your _toad_ -like face again _anywhere near my mate_ , I’ll do _worse_ to you what I just did to our mutual comrade here, Raditz.”

Kakarrot’s brother’s face slowly turned as white as the armor plating they wore just as the Saiyan Prince’s words entered his ears, and he found himself speechless.

He was hardly aware that Vegeta had seized the column of his throat and using just a little of his overwhelming strength and god-like power, he summoned it from deep within, until he was holding Raditz above him, his large feet dangling in mid-air, mostly because Raditz was held captive by the pits of soulless black irises that were Prince Vegeta’s eyes, which were glaring at him with so much distrust that Raditz did not dare break away from the Saiyan’s listless, evil gaze.

Luckily for Raditz, a startled yelp broke his concentration.

“ **VEGETA**!”

Prince Vegeta froze. He knew that voice. _Hers_. The Woman. He’d recognize her voice anywhere, he was sure of it. He did not dare turn around. His eyes widened and his breath caught in his throat. Though he couldn’t seem to help himself as he recognized the angry cutting remark came from Bulma.

He turned slightly, not relinquishing his grip on Raditz as his gaze lifted to catch the majestic sight of his future mate, even in her rancor, still so beautiful, exotic. She stalked towards Vegeta and Raditz looking like a lioness, with such great speed and her blue eyes blazing that could summon a violent tempest with just a piercing look, and Vegeta swore the sky itself darkened. Her anger pulled Prince Vegeta out of his own fury. His father trailed after Bulma with obvious fretting coupled with minor anger and amusement at this scene.

“That’s _enough_!” Bulma halted, her hands on her hips, leaving Vegeta’s already pale complexion quite pallid. “This one is Goku’s brother and though he’s a bit of an _ass_ ,” she grumbled, “let _Goku_ deal with Raditz. Is this one really worth the effort of a Saiyan Prince’s time?”

He opened his mouth to tell the Woman to shut up, and to remind her that Raditz’s brother was dead, though the venomous look in her darkening cerulean blue eyes warned him against it, so Vegeta forsake that option.

Vegeta was unsure how to react in this regard. Perhaps she’d gone mad. Was she really that _stupid_?!? Had she been watching the whole time? How much had she seen? Did she not see that it was her honor and his that was at stake here?!?

He was mesmerized, so engrossed in looking at the fleeting look of disappointment in her eyes as she shook her head in disgust that he didn’t even feel his iron grip on Raditz’s throat slacken as Vegeta dropped him. Raditz fell to the ground with an audibly loud thump that made the ground shake briefly beneath their feet for a split second.

Vegeta was appalled and disgusted when the Woman darted forward and helped Raditz to his feet and barely so much as spared her future _king_ a second glance. Raditz let out a pained grunt, coughing and gasping for breath as he was forced from his place on the ground, though begrudgingly accepted Bulma’s help.

Prince Vegeta paused as Raditz looked over his shoulder as he hobbled back towards the earth castle, pausing just long enough to shoot Vegeta a scathing look.

“Wait for me in the mess hall, Raditz,” Bulma sighed, sounding defeated, pinching the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger. “I’ll get you cleaned up.”

Vegeta spluttered and stammered, feeling the blood in his eyes as his vision was blinded and he could see only red. She—she was walking away from him as though the scene meant nothing and held no bearings at all for her.

“Woman, this is an _insult_!” Vegeta seethed after her. “Could you not _see_ I was disciplining my comrade?”

He froze when his heightened sight marked at the pause on Bulma’s heels and the skirts of her Saiyan dress in a bounced twist. Her shoulders pulled back and squared. The Woman turned her head to meet her eyes with his, and Vegeta could almost nurse the strange electric lightning bolt that radiated from her eyes.

They were outrageously blue… _wintry_. Cold. Unyielding and demanding and unapologetic. _Strong_. Her eyes were a fire in water if you can imagine such a thing. They were passion in ice. One glance of those blue eyes told of a lifetime of struggle that had never been put into words.

Suddenly, the Saiyan Prince was stricken with an insatiable curiosity to find out what she was _hiding_ from him. What secrets lay beneath those crystalline pools of icy blue?

“ _No_ , Prince Vegeta.” His future mate spoke in a listless, flat voice that almost sent a chilled shiver underneath his skin as the hairs on his neck stood up. “You’re _humiliating_ my best friend’s _brother_ ,” she said.

Prince Vegeta felt his breaths catching in his throat as he tightened his lips, pursing them into a thin, rigid line. His ears begun to fill with a horrible, fatigued ringing and a hot burning shame crept along his cheeks and into his chest, spreading down his toes in his boots and even all the way up to the roots of his wild jet-black hair.

What was this look she was shooting him? Anger? Pity? Fear?

“How _could_ you, Your Highness?’ the Woman asked shamelessly, breaking him out of trying to figure out the emotion glistening in her burning blue eyes, smoldering in anger.

Prince Vegeta swallowed. He didn’t remember seeing the details of the Woman turning to face him fully while Raditz, looking like he wanted to stay and say something, limped off towards the human castle’s back entryway, seeming to take the Woman’s advice and head to the mess hall for treatment of his wounds, the human way.

He bristled in jealousy and rage at the thought of Raditz, or any other Saiyan, human man, or alien male, alone with _his_ mate, _his_ future queen, though judging by the look Father was giving him, admonishing and yet at the same time, minorly impressed, he wanted a word.

Bulma’s angular, oblong face was stiff, and all traces of softness had dried out of her as she gaped at Vegeta.

“How _could_ you…?” she repeated quietly, narrowing her eyes in despair and anger and incense. “If you and I are going to be married, you have to learn to _trust_ me. I can fend for myself alright. Don’t forget, the man you just _murdered_ , I blackened his eye,” she added, a note of smug pride in her voice, though as quickly as it had come, it was gone as she looked at Vegeta angrily. “You might think it acceptable in Saiyan culture to brutally beat a man to death for ogling another man’s wife, but in my culture here on Earth, it’s abhorrent and not at all _honorable_ , Prince Vegeta. I don’t expect you to adapt to all of my ways, Prince, just as I’m sure you can’t expect me to fully learn what a Saiyan woman is supposed to do for her mate, but I’m willing to _try_ ,” Bulma emphasized through gritted teeth. “I’d only want you to do the _same_ for _me_ , and you can start by not doing _that_ ,” she growled, gesturing wildly towards Raditz’s form and barely spared Nappa’s bloodied, ruined corpse a second glance, though her face turned an interesting shade of green.

She swallowed past the bile in her throat and tried not to look at his corpse or at the gaping cavity in the formidable warrior's chest any longer than was necessary and pressed on, wanting the insufferable Prince to hear and take in her words.

“Don’t _kill_ , Vegeta. Not over _this_. You can't just kill people who tick you off for looking at you the wrong way. Or me," she shrugged, almost as an afterthought, ignoring or totally oblivious to how a vein in Vegeta's neck was twitching, as was his eyelid. She let out a sigh. "Raditz won’t hurt me, I don’t think.” Though it did not escape Vegeta’s attention she shot Kakarrot’s brother a slightly distrustful glower. “I don’t want you to kill anyone. I don’t think that’s you. At least…at least not in my presence,” she sighed sadly.

Vegeta felt like his lungs were turning to stone. He glanced to the side as a mad blush speckled along his cheeks. He briefly caught his father’s eye, who’d hardened his gaze and was staring at him. And for the first time, hot shame wracked his entire body like clouds shielding the sun, which was all making sense now that Bulma had left.

She walked away from him, following Raditz’s footsteps, and did not so much as spare Prince Vegeta a second glance, leaving the young Prince flustered and embarrassed at the realization that she had seen all of it.

“I must admit, my son, that was…quite a spectacle,” remarked King Vegeta as he came closer towards his son, folding his arms behind his back and scrunching his nose as he stepped over Nappa’s body.

The King scrunched his nose, the edges of his beard twitching without prompting as he finally nudged alongside his son, watching his son’s shoulders heave in the release of his anger and built-up frustration. “Is this another one of your favorite forms of entertainment, Vegeta? Mercilessly beating and killing your own men?”

“Just the ones that _annoy_ me, Father,” murmured the Saiyan Prince, feeling slightly ashamed and angered that his own father had caught him in a right foul mood.

“And what, pray to tell me, Vegeta, did Nappa do to cause you to make the decision to end his life, son?” asked King Vegeta, raising his eyebrows in alarm as he glanced back over his shoulder towards Nappa’s lifeless corpse.

Vegeta paused. There were several answers he could give his father. But in the end, he spoke the truth.

“He just spoke in a disgusting manner which _displeased_ me,” replied Vegeta icily, his tone frosty and did not elaborate any further, glancing back towards the palace’s back entryway, hoping to spot one last familiar glimpse of the Woman’s blue hair or her blue dress, but she had already gone. He seethed, gnashing his teeth together. He wanted to say more to Raditz, though while he was in the presence of his father, it wouldn’t be right.

Prince Vegeta felt his eye tick slightly as he could no longer catch a whiff of the Woman’s intoxicating scent of apples and autumn, and he knew she was long gone. As his rage was slowly but surely dissipated, the tension in his shoulders melting away as his mind lingered unhelpfully on the way the Woman looked at him just now with such unbridled disappointment and disgust, the Prince of All Saiyans began to feel embarrassed about this whole incident.

He was sure his own father would have never behaved in this manner, not for Mother’s honor.

“You’re looking quite pale, Vegeta. You seem rattled, son,” interjected King Vegeta, interrupting his son from his darkening swirl of thoughts as he strutted along the edge of the palace’s lush green grounds, plucking a red leaf off of one of the leaves that rode the bitterly cold breeze. “What on earth did that idiot say to you that made you fly into such a spectacle rage? Bulma and I saw it all.”

 _Bulma. Bulma?!? Since when did Father deem it appropriate to call MY mate by her first name?_ _When?!?_

Vegeta blinked, swallowing down past the lump in his throat. “Who, Nappa?” Prince Vegeta growled flippantly as he quickened his pace to walk in sync with his father. “It doesn’t matter, Father. The bastard is _dead_ ,” he hissed, shivering through gritted teeth. “There are more important matters to discuss. _Frieza_ , Father.”

But King Vegeta raised his hand and cut off his son before Vegeta could utter another syllable.

“In a moment, my son. You were defending your future wife’s honor. It was…an _admirable_ thing for you to do, son.”

The Prince clamped his mouth shut, unable to defend his actions or make up an excuse for his actions as he knew it was fruitless. His father and the Woman had been observing from the start. _They must have heard Nappa scream and came to see what was going on_ , he thought bitterly to himself, chewing at the wall of his cheek.

It was the only plausible explanation for all this.

“Wh—what?” stammered the Saiyan Prince, turning towards King Vegeta with an impassive and blank expression on his face, as he always wore whenever trying to conceal his true emotions from those around Vegeta.

His father merely smirked. “I knew it,” sighed the King as he stroked the edges of his beard in contemplative thought. “I know it might seem like I don’t take an interest in my children’s affairs, Vegeta, or that I don’t listen, but that doesn’t mean I don’t use these ears of mine. Or my eyes. I saw the whole _thing_ , Vegeta, you need not explain or justify your actions to me, son. What you did to defend your mate’s honor was _admirable_.” He allowed a dark little chuckle to escape his lips as he turned away from Vegeta and strode back up towards the castle. “I only hope that your mate will see it that way, don’t you?” he grinned, his dark eyes twinkling as he strolled at a leisurely pace back up to the castle, leaving his son alone on the ground, stunned and at a loss for words, utterly speechless. Prince Vegeta was left alone to think about his words, with only one thought daring to flit through him.

 _Yes, Father_ , he answered bitterly, though _dared_ not voice the thought lest he wanted his pride to die along with his honor.

 _I hope she will see it that way, too_.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning, Raditz in this story is very much a pervert and a creep and is going to behave as such, but don't worry, I won't let anything too bad happen to Bulma. Vegeta would probably blow up the whole earth if I let that happen XD

**7**

**BULMA** let out a haggard sigh as she shot a guarded look towards Goku’s older brother sitting almost still and lifeless in the chair in front of her, his expression hardened and impassive. She didn’t really know what to think.

This was Goku’s _brother_ who’d _murdered_ him and something within her had pitied the Saiyan warrior, not wanting him to be on the receiving end of the king’s son’s temper. She shivered with gritted teeth, her jaw locked, as the fresh memory of watching the body of the other Saiyan fall lifelessly to the ground from at least a hundred feet in the air, hitting the ground with a sickening crunch, at least a dozen of his bones breaking upon impact. The tall Saiyan’s lips were pursed into a thin line.

He’d stalked his way to the mess hall, following Bulma’s orders without so much as a word.

 _Maybe he’s just in shock or something_ , Bulma wondered, seeing Raditz sulking like this. She walked towards the front of him, having found an old wooden bowl to treat his wounds. She wished she had some of her dad’s Capsules back in her bag in her room she could have grabbed, but had she known she would have been forcefully _kidnapped_ against her will not even two days ago, she would have thought to pack a bag. She sneered in disgust.

So, she was just going to have to make do with this, for now. It would have to be enough.

Bulma felt one of her hands jut out and stiffly caressed the column of Goku’s brother’s throat. She felt him flinch and shirk away from her surprisingly tender touch as Bulma allowed the pads of her fingertips to ghost along with the red markings where Prince Vegeta had more or less tried to choke him.

An odd power surged through her veins upon seeing Raditz’s sulking face as he slowly lifted his gaze to better look Bulma in the eyes.

“Stop pouting, buddy,” Bulma heard herself command in a clipped voice that didn’t quite sound like herself. Goku’s brother merely looked on her like she’d cast some kind of spell, too flabbergasted to even speak to her. “You’re a Saiyan, just like your Prince is. Stop _sniveling_.”

Her grip on his face tightened while she held a damp, cool rag in the other and tenderly sponged at the markings around his neck, hoping the cold water would alleviate the redness of the marks and in time, they’d fade.

Bulma continued, hoping to talk some sense into Goku's older brother. “You tried to stop Vegeta. It was honorable. Though I don’t…though I _don’t_ forgive you for killing Goku and kidnapping Gohan…but…I—I’d like to _try_ if I’m…to become his…his mate. I’m going to have to get used to seeing more of you guys around. I’d rather not live my whole life in fear of your people, buddy, if you feel me,” Bulma paused as her voice cracked and faltered as she blinked back the onset of briny tears at the memory of how distraught Goku had been, watching his only son get kidnapped right out from under him and utterly helpless to help.

She swallowed, giving her head a curt shake to clear her mind, sensing the Saiyan seated in the chair had stiffened, leaning forward slightly, and seemed to be waiting for her to continue. Bulma gave herself a moment before pressing forward.

“The killing has to stop somewhere, with someone, pal. Raditz. Might as well be _you_ , and hopefully in time, my… your… your Prince,” she quickly corrected, her tongue feeling thick in her throat as she saw the Saiyan shoot her a dark look that Bulma couldn’t quite determine. “A Saiyan _can_ be _merciful_. Just look at Goku, I—I mean Kakarot. Something I wish your arrogant, thickheaded Prince of All Saiyans would learn,” Bulma grumbled. “Your brother? He’s lived on Earth his whole life. He doesn’t kill _anybody_ unless there’s no other choice, and even _then_ , it’s his last resort. You tried to stop Vegeta. You didn’t _have_ to. You could have let him go on his rampage, but you _didn’t_. That tells me there’s maybe at least a _little_ bit of good in you.”

She exhaled slowly through her nose and bent down slightly to wipe at the hardening blood near the edges of his lips with the rag and he did not flinch until his mouth was clean. But when she went for the Saiyan’s bruised and bleeding brows, yet again victim of her future husband’s rage, she froze at his voice.

His voice sounded curious, not angry. “You haven’t _asked_ ,” he murmured in a dangerously quiet and low voice as he looked.

Bulma twisted the excess water from the rag and tossed it aside on the same wooden rectangular table where not even an hour ago she’d sat across the table from her future husband and father-in-law. She shuddered.

She turned back to look at Raditz, raising her eyebrows in alarm at his question.

“Your business is yours. What does it matter as to your ‘ _why_?’” she sighed, sounding tired as she pinched at the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger. “You need _help_. I’m more than willing to give it, but…it has to stop _somewhere_. If only Vegeta could see that. Today, I help you heal your wounds. Tomorrow, maybe, you help pick someone up when they fall.” He did not answer her, merely stood to his feet, clearly growing uncomfortable with the turn their conversation had taken now.

Bulma’s face shattered as Raditz looked away from her, his hard face utterly impassive.

“Why do _you_ care?” he asked, and when the blue-haired earthen beauty did not answer the mighty Saiyan warrior, he continued to wait. He was known for his patience. A trait that Prince Vegeta (and formerly Nappa) sorely lacked. _Maybe this one will teach him the virtues of patience_ , he thought wondrously.

Their stubborn, arrogant, pigheaded Prince—nothing his father imparted on Vegeta stayed. He could remember the king once telling him that once he did find a suitable mate with which to sire children with, that his mate was to be considered his crowning jewel, a beauty he would have no trouble admitting and admiring if this woman caught his eye.

It galled him, vexed him, twisting his insides like a coil in his gut, the thought of it. He _hated_ that Prince Vegeta had gotten the better prize, this feisty beauty as a mate. The devastating beauty this female had been blessed with was wasted on their Prince.

Or would be wasted, rather, once the ceremony commenced in another few days. He’d heard the King talking to Nappa's mate through his scouter, transmitting a message to Nappa’s mate, informing her of her mate’s death, though he neglected the little fact that his own son was responsible for her mate Nappa’s death.

King Vegeta had let it slip that preparations for the Prince’s wedding ceremony would take no more than four to five days at best to prepare for everything. She would be wasted on Prince Vegeta, and even Nappa knew that, though the fool had been dumb enough to open his fat mouth, and _now_ look. He was dead.

Raditz wasn’t a blind Saiyan, no _fool_ man was he. But…but gods be damned, this female earthling was _enchanting_ in a disarming way.

There was just something of the Prince’s mate that pulled him in like nothing else, like a magnet, and that the bastard Prince of the King’s was able to have her grated upon him. More so when Kakarot’s brother knew that Vegeta wasn’t going to treat his new mate like the queen that she deserved.

As _he_ would have treated this one who’d treated his wounds. If _he_ were to be her mate, her husband. But then again, Raditz considered himself an opportunist. If there was a way to reap the benefits, he was your Saiyan to _find_ that way.

And Raditz was also greedy enough that he could—and would—take her for himself.

He just needed to wait. “The bastard will not _appreciate_ you, Woman,” Raditz heard himself start off softly in a quiet voice that surprised even himself. He gave a start at the shift in his voice, though Raditz recovered. “He does not see what he has. What he _will_ have.”

The blue-haired celestial creature now standing a few paces away from him was currently eyeing him with a rather guarded expression. She said nothing by way of a response, which was fine for him. Raditz could see the female, Bulma, was listening to his words, and at the very least, considering them.

“A Saiyan male’s touch should not hurt. Well, when it comes to our women at least.” Raditz lowered his voice an octave even lower. “It _can_ be kind.” That coming from him was almost ironic and Raditz almost laughed at it.

He took a step closer and furrowed his brows in a frown at the way she retreated, twisting her fingers together in front of her.

“ _I_ could be kind to you. Our Prince has never been with a female before, he does not know how to treat a girl. What to say, what to do to make the experience more… _pleasurable_ , but I do. I could make you feel good, I can make sure you learn a Saiyan warrior’s touch is supposed to be good to their mates,” he offered, whispering to the girl in case the walls of this place had eyes and ears when his Prince wasn’t around. He wouldn’t put it past someone to tell.

A heavy awkward silence fell between the two of them, but Raditz could feel for himself the thick tension in that this was how Vegeta’s future queen saw him. And he decided he hated it. The girl’s eyes, cold pools of blue, were masked with a nervous smile of apprehension, though Raditz could tell something dark lurked within the girl. Something…untapped and great.

Raditz swore he saw a tightening of the human woman’s jaw, but what was she feeling?

Hatred? Loathing? Jealousy? Anger? Either way, Raditz found himself swallowing.

Prince Vegeta’s future mate stammered out a half-hearted excuse, her cheeks flushed a bright red, breaking the awkward pause. “I—I am grateful you’re not hurt worse. I—I’m sorry for—for Vegeta’s actions. I will talk to him. I—I should…go…” she managed to gasp out, gathering the skirts of her sky-blue Saiyan long toga and offering a polite little curtsy before turning on her heels to go, leaving Raditz alone.

She really was a feisty one, Raditz thought, chuckling to himself and giving his head a curt little shake. He was a patient Saiyan.

More patient than Vegeta. He would take Vegeta’s mate for himself, in time.

He just needed to wait…

* * *

**BULMA** didn’t stop until she reached the edge of the wood that bordered the property’s perimeter. She was having trouble getting the encounter with Raditz out of her head and seeing Vegeta pummel and beat one of his own.

“For…for _me_ …” she swallowed hoarsely. She had thought living around Goku for so many years while he’d grown up, that she’d understood his kind. But she was wrong in that regard. She felt her blood boil at the implications of what Goku’s brother suggested.

What she wouldn’t give to let Vegeta loose on him for just a few moments, she was sure all that the Saiyan Prince would need, but… she hesitated, her blue eyes making a quick scan of the trees, not seeing anyone or anything that posed a threat to her at this time. A good scare from his Prince would put Goku’s asshole brother in line really fast. Bulma knew it, and yet, after seeing such a violent explosion of rage in her future husband, she wasn’t exactly sure why she felt compelled to keep Raditz’s ‘proposal’ if she could call it that a secret. Maybe it was to give him a second shot.

She didn’t know. Either way, the stress of it was entirely too much. Feeling her strength leave her legs, Bulma let herself collapse on the grass, rolling onto her back so she could stare up at the night sky. The chilly breeze was oddly comforting. It was nice to maintain solitude for a few minutes, even if it was just five minutes. Her mind melted back to how angered and almost possessive Vegeta had allowed himself to get.

His eyes had been so dark. It wasn’t even just the black of his irises that made them so dark, it was what lay underneath them, she knew. The relative listlessness and blankness seemed to Bulma just a cover for the tumultuous sea of emotion she knew had to lie beneath the surface. She suspected as his future wife, it was going to be up to her to bring them out of him.

Bulma had always been of the firm belief that some people—aliens included—were born broken, born wrong, but she didn’t believe a person could be born totally without emotion.

“Including the ‘Prince of All Saiyans’,” Bulma scoffed and rolled her eyes to herself before closing them, intertwining her fingers together and resting her hands on her stomach. Bulma kept her eyes closed, allowing her mind to meditate, her breaths slowing down.

As her body calmed, so did her mind. Whatever the coming weeks would bring as she traveled with Vegeta on his ship and eventually worked her way into Lord Frieza’s forces to work on the lizard git’s inner circuitry, she could plant a bomb, she was sure of it, and caused fluctuations in his power levels that were so small she was confident he wouldn’t notice, at least her mind would be kept busy enough and her mind would not have time to dwell on what she had lost. Her freedom, her family, friends.

She was marrying an alien humanoid who was handsome enough sure, but she didn’t know him. Not really. She wondered if he even cared. Bulma hadn’t meant to fall asleep, though she soon fell into a deep peaceful sleep outside underneath the shade of a swaying willow tree. She enjoyed the first tranquil sleep she’d known in ages. That night, she did not dream of Yamcha, for the first time in a long time.

That night, Bulma dreamed of Prince Vegeta.

* * *

**SHE** remembered nights when her mother would help her paint her nails while the stars and the fireflies partied together out the window. Her mom was fond of telling her that Bulma would marry a gentleman someday when she was old enough, one who would care for her.

Bulma was hardly aware of the tear that slipped out her lids. Her mom was such a liar.

She wasn’t marrying a gentleman, a fellow scientist, or some rich doctor. No. But a beast… A beast with one hand tight on her wrists wrenched above her head, the other hand gripping onto her bare thigh. Vegeta’s cheek flushed red but so did Bulma’s palm. The harsh slap of her hand smacking across the man’s face still lingered in her throbbing eardrums, which were filled with a fatigued ringing, prior to the tearing of her clothes. And the Prince’s chambers before a scandalous battlefield of scratches, cursing, biting, and an overturned table. But Bulma had become nothing more than a wounded bitch of a dog throw with a violent thud on top of the Prince’s bed, red-faced, fuming, at least, that was what she thought, until Vegeta’s lips met hers, desperate, raving.

Shock obliterated Bulma’s thoughts. _I can’t do this, I can’t, I must be insane, can’t…_ But it was useless. Both of her hands entangled in Vegeta’s wild black hair, her lips opening for his tongue. She had to turn her head so they could move without knocking their noses.

Bulma felt her cheeks ignite with fire as his fingers caressed the curves of her muscles, straining to be even closer than he already was.

Aching for him, despite the anger she felt, Bulma brought her legs up around Vegeta as he braced his muscular arms against the mattress, pinning Bulma against the mattress with the pressure of his thick, muscular body, entrapping her to the bed, not letting his mate go _anywhere_.

Bulma was horrified and embarrassed at the thought of how inexpert she must seem, how alien this probably was, but he looked lost, too. Bulma couldn’t remember what happened next, but the end result was their clothes lay in a trashed heap at the foot of the bed, in shreds.

Well, hers, at least. She could not get in a good breath at all as Vegeta lowered himself on top of her, letting out a ragged breath, pushed himself forward and down, and took all of her right there on the bed. Bulma lifted her knees up, bracing against her heels, and eased the length of Vegeta inside of her. He started to move, slowly and deliberately at first as Bulma arched her hips, winding her arms around her back, taking care not to jostle them too much.

It was growing less foreign and weird to have Vegeta inside of her. She felt less as if she had been more or less invaded and more… _home_.

Vegeta moved faster, spurred on by the moans and groans that left her throat as he continued to thrust into her, his fingers gripping almost painfully tight on her thighs, fingers pressing into the hollow of her bones of her hips.

She felt a wetness on her thigh that felt like blood, but she didn’t want Vegeta to stop.

He didn’t. Almost roughly, Vegeta pulled Bulma further up into him, thrust once, twice, three times, and let out a guttural roar as he spent himself inside of her, filling Bulma with incredible heat. Crying out only once, she scratched at his back hard enough to bleed, digging into the skin of his scarred flesh with her nails, saw white behind closed lids, and forgot her own name.

She shivered with gritted teeth as he lowered his head to her neck, a low moan escaping her throat, and impaled his teeth into the junction between her neck and shoulder. She cried out in pain and shock before leaning against Vegeta as he tasted her blood.

There was a white-hot explosion in her brain, and Bulma swore she felt some of his power seep into her body. She heard Chi-Chi talk of the ‘marking’ sometimes, but never in excruciating detail, so she had no idea what to expect at all.

But then again, she never thought she would be marrying a Saiyan just like Goku was.

Vegeta held onto her tightly, one hand wrapped around her middle, the other holding her firmly in position as he marked her as his mate. It seemed to take the Saiyan Prince everything in him not to drain Bulma totally dry of her blood, and when he pulled back, her blood on his lips, he just watched for several minutes as droplets of blood oozed from her shoulder as she could feel herself begin to slip away.

He tore his gaze away when the bleeding finally subsided, and looked down his nose at Bulma, whose cheeks were flushed, and had the far-off look in her clouded blue eyes of someone who’d just experienced ecstasy. Slowly, he lowered his head to hers, catching her lips with his. Her blood caused his lips to slip a little bit, but soon, he cupped her jaw and forced her mouth open, ensuring she tasted her own blood, sweet like mo, and Bulma felt herself lean against the Prince for support. He looked down at her, his black eyes burning brighter than midnight torches. There was a strange look in his eyes.

And he only whispered one word as he lowered his head and whispered into the shell of her ear and when he did, his voice was low and gravelly.

“ _Mine_.”

And then her own screaming woke her up. Bulma bolted upright from her sleep, gasping, searching for breaths that wouldn’t come to her.

The sudden rush of blood to her brain as she sat up straight under the willow tree she’d fallen asleep underneath caused her head to spin badly. Dizzy, staring straight ahead into the darkness, Bulma was half-awake, half still in her erotic dream of Prince Vegeta marking Bulma as his mate.

After a few moments as her eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness, the shock wore off and the realization it was all a dream dawned on her. The only light that was thrown was a strange red light glowing in the distance.

“Huh?” She blinked, stifling a yawn with the back of her hand. “It was just a _dream_ …” she shook her head. Bulma was able to justify Vegeta’s shocking appearance in her dream as her mind playing tricks on her. Considering she was supposed to marry the man in a few days, it was only natural he’d remain present in her thoughts. She’d been wondering what it would be like to be the wife of a Saiyan Prince and a warrior as she’d accidentally let herself drift off to sleep out here.

Lost in her thoughts, Bulma let out a shaking breath and looked towards the woods, where that strange red light emanated in the distance. She furrowed her thin blue eyebrows.

Was that a… was that a _light_? But why?

She had calmed the worst of her shock and awe, and her racing heart and reeling mind relaxed. Now more or less comfortable with her subconscious storytelling in her mind, her mind slipped its way unbidden back to the events that had played out in her mind so sharp and _vivid_. It was as if she were watching Vegeta move inside her from above them or something.

She once more felt a warmth inside her, imagining his teeth grazing the skin of her throat, his hands trailing down her ready body. When she came to herself, she was surprised to hear she was actually breathing heavy and biting down hard on her bottom lip.

The pads of her right hand’s fingertips were ghosting along the edge of her throat, feeling the spot where in her dream, Vegeta had marked her. But her throat was clean, with no marks. Her other hand was clutching at the blue dress she wore until a good portion of the neckline of her sky-blue toga was bunched in her hand and pulled almost painfully tight across her hips. Bulma gritted her teeth as she forcefully shook her head.

“Stop it!” she ordered herself, her embarrassment giving way to anger.

She really needed a moment, Bulma thought, as she slowly stumbled to her feet, brushing her hands on the skirts of her blue toga, her curiosity growing more insatiable, wondering what the red light was in the distance. “What _are_ you?” Bulma whispered, shoving aside thoughts of Vegeta for now, though she figured she would at some point soon have to confront the Saiyan Prince about his aggressive display of violence for her later.

For now, she needed to take a walk to clear her head and wanted to check out that strange red glowing light in the woods that gave off a faint aura she wasn’t sure what to make of. Bulma wasn’t sure if she’d spoken aloud at this point or was just musing to herself now.

But either way, she was going to make her way towards that light. It was something different, allowed her to take her mind off _him_.

The light grew brighter and brighter as Bulma trudged through the thick of the forest, having to lift the skirts of her stupid dress to avoid tripping on the long hem or allowing a gnarled branch to grope at the fabric and rip it.

But what the bloody hell was it? A campfire? Were there other Saiyans out here? Fireflies? Maybe a trick of her mind.

“Hello?” Bulma called out timidly as she neared the strange foreign light, but still, she couldn’t see what the red light’s source was.

Surely it wasn’t that lizard creep’s people, they arrived by ship. She would have known about it. Vegeta or his father would have told her.

 _Right_ …?!?

Bulma sighed in frustration as she stopped walking. She wasn’t even sure how long she had been walking. For a moment, Bulma remained silent as her eyes made a scan of the edge of the trees around her. Everything in this damned forest seemed frozen in time.

All Bulma could hear in response to her calls was the echoing of her own breaths, with the young woman thinking that they sounded too slow. Entirely too slow for it to be considered normal, and Bulma believed that if she had noticed a stranger breathing so slowly like this, she would have immediately started worrying for their health, thinking something was wrong with them and wondering why they were so slow.

Bulma figured she was going to die if she couldn't get more air into her lungs.

Her lungs needed more than just one breath per minute. "Oh, damn," she swore, seizing at her heart. She was having a panic attack.

The way her shoulders and lunged heaved as she gasped for breath suggested to the scientist that she was hyperventilating, but the sound of her breaths was way too slow. Why couldn’t she breathe?!?

"Uh, hello?!!? Someone! Vegeta? Goku? Is…is that you?" Bulma whispered, hopefully, hoping Goku had managed to find his way back again, suddenly no longer caring who—or what—heard her cries for help. She wanted someone to find her. She winced as she felt the strength give out in her legs, falling to her knees and wildly clawing at her chest, and groaned as her stomach lurched.

It felt as though someone had plunged their hand into her stomach and was taking sick, sadistic pleasure in churning her intestines.

"I…I can't…breathe…" she wheezed, turning her head to the side and coughing, sucking in more selfish breaths of air, what little good it was doing her. Bulma did not understand. Woods, especially this place, could do strange things to you and mess with your mind, but this was unbelievable. Was she really going to die here because she couldn't get enough air into her lungs, that she had, what, somehow forgotten how to breathe?

" _Hello_! Someone?!? Vegeta? If you followed me or whatever, I—I don't know if I'm breathing anymore," she whispered, looking frantically to the left and right for any signs of life. A flash. A dart of movement.

Bulma felt her jaw tighten and lock up in nervous anticipation, afraid. She couldn't quite shake the feeling of dread as it crawled down her spine like a spider leaving a careful trail of silk, feeling her feet on her skin. Was the forest playing tricks on her mind? Was it going to kill her?

And yet, her lungs burned like fire, desperately begging with her for more air, though she could practically feel her shoulders shake as she drew in short spurts of gasping, panicked breaths, beseeching her lungs to calm down and try to regulate her breathing back to something that resembled normal. She recognized that she was panicking.

 _Need to breathe…can't_ … But she was desperate. No one was hearing her, within earshot of her frantic, panicked calls for help.

Bulma struggled to focus her gaze more than a few feet in front of herself and froze as the black shrouded figure came into her line of sight.

Whoever or whatever it was, was tall, towering, and huge, and when the figure stepped from the mist and into the same clearing that Bulma was now curled up in a ball against the trunk of a tree, she froze. The only announcement of Raditz’s arrival was a slight drop in the air temperature and the descent of absolute silence. And then, a deep baritone voice spoke and rent the otherwise silent air.

"Hello, Woman. Found you, little dove.” Without even having to crane her neck upward, Bulma realized with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that Raditz was there, pale in the shadows of the mist that shrouded the woods’ clearing, save for his dark hair.

His lethal stare as Raditz slowly, methodically stalked towards Bulma felt painful and piercing, as if his glare alone were tearing apart her heart. Bulma swallowed nervously as she looked up at Raditz again, this time with widened eyes. A final glance at his fuming expression confirmed her possible outcome.

Raditz had found her at last and was going to kill her or rape her. And this time, she was on her own. No one was coming to save her.

Vegeta wasn’t coming for her this time.

Bulma was not about to get caught in the crosshairs of Saiyan Raditz's temper.

"Raditz, damn. I hoped it wasn't you," she whispered in a hoarse voice. "I um, can't stay. I—I should go, V—Vegeta is probably…looking for me," Bulma suggested, her voice small, feeling like she was lying through her teeth at her words.

She suddenly wished for nothing more than a hole in the ground that would open up and swallow her whole, and not let her re-emerge until Raditz left.

" _Go_?" he mocked in a lilting tone, cocking his head to the side and regarding the object of his Prince’s affections as though he were an interesting specimen he had captured from a and was not at all sure what to do. He pouted, feigning mock disappointment.

Bulma shuddered with gritted teeth.

"You just got here, Woman." Bulma visibly cringed, hoping her fear wasn't evident on her face as Raditz’s smile plastered on his face widened even more if such a thing was humanly possible. She fought back the urge to scrunch her nose in disgust and make a face towards Goku’s asshole brother. Gods be damned, but everything about this precarious situation Bulma now found herself in was so horribly awkward.

She weighed her options of kicking her stupid strappy sandals off and running further into the forest, beasts in here be damned, she was _looking_ at one right now and taking her chances anywhere else, if it meant she could escape the Saiyan, but she could tell by the indignant, angered look in Raditz's eyes, that the man had no intention of letting Bulma leave him. At least, not yet. She was trapped.

With _him_.

Bulma shuddered as a cold chill of revulsion went down her spine, though she fought it back, knowing if she allowed the man to see it, it would make things that much worse for herself. But was there no end to her hellish life?

Apparently not, and Bulma couldn’t help pleading. _Goku, goddamn it, I wish you were here. I could really use you right about now.  
_

"You're lost, wench?" he barked in a rough voice.

"Mmm?" Bulma blanched as she felt her face drain of what little color was left, confused by this Saiyan's words. And then she remembered. "O—oh," she stammered, feeling the heat creep to her cheeks. "I—I was just looking for…a place to sit and think for a bit. The—the woods…" she murmured under her breath, not sure just how much she should say.

Raditz let out a dark little chuckle as it escaped his chest, throat, and lips, and something akin to amusement seemed to ignite as a light behind the man's dark eyes.

"You are… _lost_ , girl," Raditz said slowly, letting the words roll off his fluid tongue. "How can you possibly be _lost_? These woods circle around the entire perimeter of this place’s estate. I could walk you back?” he offered smoothly.

"Ah, th—thank you for your concern. Raditz. I can take myself back, I don’t need help. I—if you'll excuse me, you seem…um, busy buddy, so I think I'll head back," she mumbled, her blush intensifying as Bulma actively averted Raditz's piercing gaze that threatened to burn the back of her skull as she turned away.

Though before Bulma could so much as take a half-step forward, she felt a pair of rough hands grab her firmly by the shoulders and pull her roughly back onto the cracked and broken sidewalk, causing her to almost falter in her footing.

" **HEY**!" she shouted, biting down on her bottom lip as Raditz spun her around to face him. “ **WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING**? **YOU GOT A DEATH WISH OR SOMETHING BUDDY? LET GO OF ME!** ”

She looked up at him with a frown. She hoped this man under her future husband had a reasonable explanation for his behavior towards her just now, and that he would tell her what he wanted pretty quickly because Bulma was beginning to feel perturbed, not to mention, increasingly uncomfortable in his company.

If there was something Raditz wanted of her, why didn't he just spit it out and say it? Why need to be rough? Were all of the Saiyans under the king’s son’s command utter creeps? She guessed so.

The look he was shooting her suggested that he was angry with Bulma. Letting out a pained gasp, Bulma inhaled sharply. Bulma wasn't even aware she was holding in her breath until she felt herself exhale a shaking, pained breath as Raditz cupped Bulma's delicate chin in his strong grip, tilting her head slightly to the right, forcing Bulma to meet his hardened, stony, and quite a cold gaze of anger.

"You say that you are lost, girl, that you cannot find your way. Perhaps I can help you to become un-lost, don't you think? After all, it isn't safe for a pretty little bride-like yourself to be wandering at night, love, never know the types of _scoundrels_ you'll run into," he crooned.

Raditz sounded offended, and he certainly looked it as Bulma pulled a face and scrunched her nose. Bulma silently bristled, resisting the urge to stomp her foot in frustration. She was not going to have any of this.

She had a mission, a goal, and this man was standing, quite _literally_ in the way of that, though her heart dropped to the pit of her stomach as she dared to meet the Saiyan's piercing gaze, and she was quick to decide she did not like the look of anger in the man's darkening green eyes like that of moss.

"Scoundrels?" Bulma snorted. "You mean like yourself?" Bulma asked, her tone piercing and practical. She knew all too well what kind of man Raditz was. A _beast_ , every bit a monster.

The man seemed to not know what to say in response to such a statement and raised his eyebrows in alarm at Bulma. Bulma tilted her chin upward in a stubborn, set manner and made a move to shove past the Saiyan, intent on going back and screw the red light she looked for.

Before she knew what had happened, Raditz grabbed her rather roughly by her shoulder and pulled her back to him. She let out a gasp of annoyance and startled pain, grasping at her shoulder that had been roughly manhandled with her other hand. Was every single one of her future husband’s soldiers under his command always this rude like this?! Bulma was starting to think that this was to be the case… But Raditz was not about to let her go.

"What's your rush, dove? Stay with me for a while. You said you're lost, my dear. Well. Then, allow me to please help you to become un-lost," he commanded more than begged, causing Bulma to struggle and wriggle to break free.

"Ngh—let _go_ of me, you big, hairy asshole!” Bulma demanded, not really sure what in God’s name had come over her just now, shoving his chest.

She did not see why Raditz was so intent on her sticking around. It wasn't as if she had ever accidentally given off signals that she was interested in the Saiyan or anything… Almost as if the Saiyan could read her mind—it creeped her out—Raditz offered Bulma a wry smile, though it did not reach his eyes.

"Because, little dove, you look like you could use…a friend, where Vegeta will never be that for you, even as your mate," the Saiyan answered simply, and did not smile, much less flinch, as Bulma felt her jaw drop open in shock.

He continued, either oblivious to the young woman’s shock or not caring. Probably the latter if Bulma knew Raditz.

"You _hide_ a lot, don't you? I can tell, dear. You have pretty blue eyes. _Sad_ eyes for a human female," he spat, the briefest hints of disgust at what Bulma was laced throughout his deep voice. This was twice in the span of a single night that Bulma had been rendered utterly speechless, at a total loss for words, unable to think of an apt response to give to Raditz.

"I…." Bulma spluttered and stammered to think of a response, but all that came out was a strangled attempt at speech. "Th—that's none of your goddamn business, Raditz!" she spat the man's title as though it were poison that had settled upon her tongue. "Who do you think you are, you—you piece of shit…"

But her voice trailed off as the man's smirk widened, and she could tell the gesture was ill meant.

"Calm down, girl. I meant nothing by it."

Bulma bristled. Then what _had_ he meant? Bulma struggled against the tall Saiyan's hold, taking a few faltering steps backward, careful not to trip over her dress's hem as the man advanced. His large, rough fingers latched onto her slim wrist and squeezed.

"Raditz, please don’t do this to me…" Bulma brought herself to speak in a shaking voice as she put both hands on the man's burly chest and weakly tried to push the Saiyan away. She could feel her entire body trembling. She was scared and felt pretty betrayed if she was being honest with herself.

Why would one of Vegeta’s men even do this to her? Bulma closed her eyes tightly shut. It didn't seem like Raditz was going to let her go,

Raditz sneered as he allowed his eyes to slide over Bulma's body, adding up the pluses and minuses of the human woman’s figure. If the girl ranked high enough, he would put her in his sights, line her up with the others in his ranks that he wanted to add to his list, but mostly, just the girl.

Though the man himself did not particularly like humans, abhorred them, as a matter of fact, something about the elusive, fair-skinned blue-haired beauty, her status of being more or less ‘off-limits’ as Vegeta’s future mate.

It only made Raditz want her more. Like a drug he couldn’t seem to get enough of now.

The Saiyan quickly decided the little she-wolf of Vegeta’s was a nine. He, naturally, was a ten. Raditz decided Bulma's only reason for being a nine and not a perfect ten were due to two things.

Her loud personality, and her mouth, which if she did not learn to keep that in check around him, was going to get her into serious trouble one day, for there were punishments when a woman didn’t know her place among her gods.

There might come a day when the young beauty found herself in a dire spot of trouble that she wouldn't be able to get out of, and Raditz wouldn't be around to save the girl from being paraded around like a freakish human pet. Raditz tightened his grip on Bulma's wrist and raised her arm above her head, slamming Vegeta’s future mate against the trunk of the old gnarled dead tree behind her.

Bulma flinched, squeezing her eyes shut at the swell of pain that stung and sent a white-hot flare of lighting up and down her back. That was surely a pulled muscle, at the least.

 _Someone_ , she begged. _Anyone…GOKU! Vegeta, Krillin, someone come and help me!?! GOKU! HELP!_

She screamed it in her mind, hoping her best friend could somehow hear her desperate scream. But no help was coming. She needed Vegeta or one of the other Saiyans to save her ass. That was the only way she could get out of this mess. She was going to have to fight him. Bulma almost laughed and simultaneously burst into tears. She had no frying pan in her hands this time as she had with the other one that Vegeta had killed, Nappa when he and this one had raided Capsule Corp and taken them. No, in order to get out of this, she'd need a bloody miracle.

Bulma knew that her only way out of this was to keep him talking, to stall her groom’s comrade if and when until help came.

"Please, guy, don’t do this to me, man…" Bulma gasped in a tiny, frightened whisper, let out a low wolfish whine that sounded reminiscent of a dog making a wounded noise after it had been kicked by its master. She was beginning to feel more trapped and hopeless by the second as her gaze darted wildly to the left and right. "Raditz, d—don't do this to me," Bulma begged, feeling tears spring to her eyes despite her best efforts to quell them.

She never thought she would have to beg Vegeta’s friend not to do this to her, and no longer felt hopeful that talking to the man was going to do her any good by the look in his eyes. Pulling her hands into fists, Bulma pushed uselessly against his chest one last time before finally giving up with a frustrated whimper. Fighting back was doing her no good. Raditz was not going to let her go.

Raditz's smile lasted until his head swiveled back around to regard her, having looked to their immediate left, thinking he'd heard a noise.

His mouth had formed a rigid grimace, with Raditz moving in close enough so that she could practically feel his hot breath upon her neck, and this caused the fine hairs on the back of Bulma's neck to stand up, and she stiffened.

"Why don't you come along with me, girl," Raditz breathed, his eyes alight with a sudden excitement that had been missing before that Bulma knew she didn't like. "I can take you away from our Prince. You'd never have to go back. Wouldn't you like that? You'd be my little pet…"

Bulma drew in a sharp breath that pained her bruised ribcage that still stung from where he had forcefully shoved her up against the trunk of the tree as he swept over her ear. Bulma let out a hiss and shoved the man violently away, as hard as she could muster, which admittedly wasn't very much, as she didn't weigh very much, so what little strength she did possess, wasn't much, to begin with, or to boast of, really. Not that shoving the Saiyan backward and making a beeline for the forest clearing behind her was not much of an escape plan. The only thing she could do was punch at him, and that wasn't going to do much to a Saiyan warrior like this creep.

This man outweighed her by several pounds, probably thousands, and was, naturally, a lot stronger and bulkier than she was.

Bulma swallowed nervously, craning her neck up to look at Raditz. There just… _had_ to be a way that she could make Raditz see that what the jackass was doing to her was wrong. Bulma felt a cold chill of fear travel down her spine and a wash of cold come over her entire body, as though Raditz had doused her in ice water.

"What…" She felt like she could barely speak as her energy suddenly felt sapped from her body.

"Hush, now. Be a good little girl and stay quiet," Raditz shushed Bulma by putting a calloused finger to her lips and effectively silencing Prince Vegeta’s future bride.

He was not looking at all sane at the moment. In fact, Raditz was looking quite deranged. Two-day stubble gracing his jawline and chin. His cheekbones in the dim light emanating from above their heads held an emaciated look, sunken in and hollow.

His tuft of dark hair was wild and stuck up in every which way, seeming to have a mind of its own, though his bangs needed trimming long ago and hung in his eyes. Speaking of his eyes, it was the man's eyes that scared Bulma the most, though she would rather die than ever admit it to anyone else, especially not to the man himself. The second Bulma looked into Raditz's eyes, it was like there was nothing there to behold.

She could not see the whites of his eyes nor the vessels that flowed through them. They were the depths of Tartarus themselves, holding a thousand souls, yet there were none to be seen, at least not in the man's eyes. She gulped and swallowed past the lump forming in her throat that threatened to close off her passageways. Bulma knew she ought not to be staring at the Saiyan like this, for it might provoke him. Still…there had to be a way to reach him, if there was _any_ good in him, she had to try to reach it.

"Raditz, _please_ …" she begged pitifully.

"What?" he snapped meanly, no semblance of warmth in his tone.

Bulma tried again. "No…I-if you have any respect for me, you'll _leave_ ," she growled through gritted teeth. "You saw what happened to your buddy, Nappa, right? You want that to be you?!?!" she warned, to which the Saiyan no doubt heard the warble in her voice, which had lowered an octave and was soft and timid, and very afraid.

"Go ahead," growled Raditz darkly, shoving her back against the tree trunk again. " _Scream_. Yell. Cry. You're not mated to Vegeta yet, so he won't be able to sense your energy or read your mind. It's going to be _your_ word against _mine_ , bitch. Who do you think the Prince is going to believe, sweetheart?"

"But I'm not a—" Bulma's insides went cold as she was cut off from protesting that she was not a bitch nor was she a bad person when she felt the Saiyan reach up with both his hands and began to tug at her dress, his strong fingers curling into fists around her dress. " _No_!"

If anything, that only incurred Raditz's wrath further. "I know your kind, Woman, I know that you want this, you live for it. A big, _strong_ man like _me_ to protect you, it’s what you _want_ , girl," he snarled, one of his hands finding purchase in the back of her head, one of his fingers toying with a strand of her blue hair.

Bulma shuddered but refused to avert her gaze. "What am I?" she asked, quivering where she stood, but also incredibly furious, seething.

The Saiyan smirked, recognizing he was finally getting somewhere with this one. He would have the girl for himself before the night was out, he was sure.

"I know women like you," he breathed angrily. "You're just a—a bit of rough from the streets, girl. Nothing but a street rat on this worthless pathetic planet. Vegeta doesn’t give a damn about you. He’s not coming to _save_ you. Not from… _this_. If you're smart, and I think you are, Woman. You'll stay quiet now…besides, a beautiful female like you ought to be smart enough to know not to be out after dark like this. Never know the types of monsters you’ll run into,” Raditz growled angrily.

Bulma froze, her blue eyes widening in horror and shock. Goddamn it. This was _not_ good.

Bulma's stomach lurched, and she fought back the urge to be sick.

Still, she had to try to reason with this brute. It was her only chance of walking away from this unpleasant situation unharmed. Otherwise…well, she didn't like to think of the alternative. She decided right then and there that she did not like how this Saiyan was talking to her, she didn't like it one bit.

He was very clearly mocking her, teasing her, the intonations of his voice almost suggested a childlike curiosity, the way he genuflected, and his eyes grew unnaturally wide and glossy. Raditz reached up a surprisingly tender hand and began to caress her cheek.

The intimacy of such a simple gesture caught her off guard and Bulma felt her body shiver beneath Raditz's touch. Bulma trembled, hating to admit that, unwanted though his advances were, it strangely felt nice, and she hated herself for it. The skin of his palm was surprisingly smooth for a Saiyan.

Bulma could only manage a breathy little squeak of terror as he seized her left wrist and shoved her up against the tree, re-injuring the back muscle she had already pulled the first time he did this. She let out a pained gasp of surprise and whimpered, clenching her eyes shut tightly, not wanting to see whatever was about to come next.

"You're going to do what I say if you value keeping that tongue of yours, bitch, that must be hung in the middle so it can wag at both ends like the female dog we know you are. Stay silent and be still," the Saiyan growled threateningly, whispering it into the shell of her ear. "Do I need to say it _again_? Stay quiet and don't move. You will enjoy it, I can promise you that, pet. Don't make me say it a second time, girl. I really hate saying it a second time," Raditz snarled, almost sounding bored. When she didn't answer, he continued. "Welcome to your new life, girl," snarled Raditz, leaning off and closing the gap of space between the two of them, the tip of his slender nose almost touching hers. "A night full of lonely regrets. The world out there won't get any better for you or the rest of _your_ kind, love," he sighed, looking away for a minute before turning back towards Bulma, whose blue eyes were wide with fear.

The Saiyan warrior let out a low warning growl from the back of his throat as he shoved her up against the tree even harder, silently enforcing his intended message: _Be quiet and be still…or else._

She didn't like to think what 'or else' meant in this case, though Bulma knew she could guess. She winced as he did so, definitely feeling a back muscle pull. The ache was dull as if some lazy torturer were standing right behind her, only applying enough pressure to be an annoyance, though, in Bulma's case, her assailant was in front of her, and not behind her.

The pain just sat there, just to the side of the right shoulder blade, near her spine. Bulma likened it to lying on a large glass marble. Perhaps at first, it would be pleasant yet soon enough it would ache, just the same.

"Let _go_ of me, you—you pervert! You sick creep!" she screamed, making sure her voice carried and reverberated.

She didn't know where that little outburst had come from, but the very words were out of her mouth before she could stop herself, not thinking about the severe gravity of her situation. Bulma flinched as he reached up to his free hand that was not grasping onto her wrist to tuck back a wisp of her hair. She flinched and shirked away from Raditz's touch.

Bulma would have almost preferred if the Saiyan would just shout at her, do whatever it was that he was going to do to her here, and let her go free. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, if she just…closed her eyes and took her mind someplace else, let him do whatever he wanted, and she'd stay alive… "Feisty little thing, aren't you?" Raditz complimented admirably.

"What…?" She felt the color rapidly drain from her already pale face. Suddenly, she shook like a leaf, utterly terrified and at a loss for as to what to do.

No help was coming.

"Be quiet, girl," Raditz growled angrily, his face paling in rage.

" _Please_ ," she whimpered as fright consumed every part of her body. With every second, she could practically feel the rapid increase of her heartbeats, but she knew right now that was the very least of her worries.

Bulma lifted her gaze to meet the Saiyan's eyes, what little of the man's impassive expression she could see provided by such dim light.

"Please don't do this to me, Raditz," she croaked hoarsely. "I'll—I'll give you whatever you want. I-if it's money, my—my family is wealthy, we could…make you rich. Whatever you want. I-it's yours, just take it and leave me alone, please, what about…Vegeta? He’ll be ticked at you for touching me, buddy!" she begged, tears streaming down her cheeks. She swallowed hard and glanced upwards at the man.

The Saiyan merely laughed, amusement in his cold, flat eyes. "Oh, sweetheart," he throatily crooned. "Don’t worry your pretty head about Vegeta. It was never about money, darling. I don't want your money. You're not one of those girls who pay men for their…services," he added, a look of disgust on his face. "It's _you_ ," he breathed, and Bulma knew then that she was in very serious trouble. 

When Bulma did not respond, he began to grow angry.

"It's what a girl like you is _made_ for," he sneered and reached up a hand.

She was not familiar with this unfamiliar feeling that began as a hot fire seed of anger deep within the pits of her stomach, but his last insult was the breaking point of Bulma's patience waiting for help to come. At the moment she was blinded by anger that currently overpowered her fear, the rage tasting bitter in her mouth but yet somehow it was strangely satisfying.

Bulma somehow was able to wrench her arm free from Raditz's grasp and drew her arm back as far as she possibly could take it. Bulma had never punched a fully grown adult Saiyan male before aside from Goku, who she was sure always relaxed his form and usually let her do it and didn’t try to resist, so she was incredibly surprised at the pain that immediately flared and blazed up her arm as her fist connected with Raditz's chiseled jaw. She hadn't been thinking clearly when she let out her boiling anger and swung her fist. The impact was like thousands of venomous blades piercing apart her clammed fist. It led the young scientist to one conclusion.

That it _hurt_.

Raditz merely laughed, which chilled Bulma’s insides to ice. He gestured with his arms to the wide-open air around the two of them.

"That _all_ you got, Woman, huh?" he jeered, sounding like he was thoroughly enjoying himself. "I've not met a woman like you before. The she-wolf has fire in her. I like that," Raditz laughed. " _Good_. That'll be easy for me…I like my girls with a bit of fight in them. Makes it more fun that way."

Bulma swallowed hard as she found her voice…and her resolve. When she finally spoke, even she was surprised at the coldness laced throughout her normally kind, quiet voice.

"My _name_ ," she whispered, balling her hands into fists at her side as she continued retreating from the deranged Saiyan, "is _Bulma_.”

She let out a growl from the back of her throat, taking two steps towards Raditz, jabbing a sharp finger in his chest, and propelling the Saiyan who towered over her back. "As long as I'm around, and if you want me to treat you with any semblance of kindness, considering I _saved_ your sorry ass from getting strangled by your Prince, though after what you just tried to do to me, you don't deserve it," she demanded angrily, "Then you'll start to call me by my name. Bulma Briefs, you jerk. Start using it and _maybe_ I’ll _think_ about _not_ telling Prince Vegeta what you tried to do to his future queen, buddy," she snapped, whirling around on her heels, and storming off, but not before Raditz let out a guttural growl from the back of his throat and a horrible roar.

The Saiyan's holler reverberated in Bulma's ears like a clap of thunder, such was the man's rage. It was a roar of pure fire, his rage. A chill ran through Bulma's spine as she whirled around, just in time to see the Saiyan rushing straight her, a cry of rage on his lips.

Adrenaline ran through her veins, pumping and beating like it was trying to escape. Bulma thought her heart would explode, and her blue eyes were wide with fear and her feet felt rooted to the ground beneath her shoes. Her body was screaming at her to run, but instead, she remained where she was, utterly paralyzed by her fear.

Let's face it, there was only one thing she could do. Pray he didn't kill her. A muscle in her jaw tensed and twitched and she clenched her eyes shut, scrunching her face, and turning it to the right while she waited for the inevitable backhanded blow of the warrior’s cheek that would send her sprawling.

His hands instead reached out for her waist, coming up to grip almost painfully tight and the world around her seemed to rush by in a blur as she cried for help.

"Someone, please! Help me!" she screamed frantically. Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes, stinging, and blurring her vision, making it almost impossible for her to discern where he was. She knew the pain was coming. It went by fast, yet slow, almost suspended. Then a hard impact as Bulma finally hit the ground.

Bulma felt her left ankle move in a way that it shouldn't, and she felt the pressure and she stifled a pained cry of surprise as the appendage twisted. Definitely not broken, at least not that she could tell, but sprained. Vegeta was really going to be upset with her later on for this.

 _At least all I have to do for him besides take care of Frieza is look pretty and give him an heir. No pressure or anything on me for my part_ , she thought darkly, sarcastically, biting her tongue, and tasting coppery blood that had lingered on her tongue as she bit down in the effort to keep from crying out in pain. Raditz was yelling something incoherent nearby.

Without even having to look, she could feel the cut above her brow from where Raditz had decked her a clean solid hit. Bulma didn't move—anything to delay the part where she took in what she looked like now.

Torn skin, a bruised and twisted ankle for sure. She could feel the bile rising at the back of her throat. Bulma tried to pinpoint exactly where Raditz had disappeared to, for the first thing she noticed was that his strong hands no longer had a vice grip on her waist.

But when she made a move to attempt to sit up, let alone stand, it was quickly proven futile as another fiery pain pulsated from her ankle. Bulma lay on the ground, her face closed in a grimace, her skin growing pale and clammy, beads of sweat forming upon her brow.

Her blue eyes froze over like the surface of a winter puddle, robbing them of their usual warmth as she struggled and fought against the tides of blackness, the ebb and flow of nausea waves that washed over her body. Sharp pains lanced through her head and colorful spots flashed in front of her eyes.

It felt like her whole body had been badly beaten and every movement, especially the slightest twitch in her left ankle, ached terribly. Regardless, she needed to get out of here, away from Raditz…

 _Need to find Vegeta and tell him what happened_ , she thought hazily.

Surely, he would understand... right? Wincing in pain, she attempted to grab onto the trunk of the old oak tree behind her for support but cried out in pain and quickly lowered her arm.

Putting strain on her ankle was not wise for the time being, she decided. Blearily, she lifted her head and tried to focus her gaze a few feet from herself to focus on whatever was happening with Raditz just now. Bulma wanted to get a glimpse of this mysterious savior, for she could see another figure, albeit hidden in the shadows, had pinned the raving Saiyan up against the tree, someone way shorter than Vegeta was saying something in low murmurs to whoever had the Saiyan dead to rights against the post. She could just barely make out a figure.

Bulma fought to keep her eyes open, the panicked Saiyan's swift scream that caused the hair on the back of her neck to stand up having forced her from her state of semi-consciousness for just a brief moment. Through the fog swirling in her mind as the darkness threatened to take her, she could see someone standing in front of her, protecting her. Bulma let out a tiny groan as it escaped her lips as she fought to lift her head, and even that throbbed and pounded against the back of her skull from where she had hit her head in the fall after twisting her ankle.

Someone up there had answered her prayers, it would seem, and had sent her someone.

_Did Goku send one of his buddies? He’s way too short to be Goku unless he shrunk. Is that kid? What's his name...Dende?  
_

Oh, how she wanted desperately to look upon her savior's face, though it hurt too much just to lift her head. What little she could see of him, however, was rather, well…odd. Yes, _odd_.

He was so…so…well, short. Shorter than Vegeta. There was no other word to describe it.

The way he was standing seemed rather peculiar, and when the man lunged forward seemingly in an effort to protect her, it was revealed, albeit however blurred, that he walked with almost inhuman speed, but Bulma had absolutely no time to get a better look as everything became fuzzy, and then she saw nothing at all. Her consciousness drifted, a horrible ringing in her ears, which muffled the sound of Raditz's screams and someone else.

Through the darkness as the thick wave of sweet, blissful relief reached for her with its blackened arms outstretched, Bulma's heartbeats pounded loudly, echoing in her eardrums, alongside fading pleas for help.

And then…the feeling in her body drained away until all was black.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys...I love Vegeta's younger brother Tarble so much XD. He's like a tiny version of a polite and mild-mannered Vegeta lol.

**8**

**TARBLE** felt his blood surge through his veins, panting and gasping heavily, his tail twitching in agitation and anger. Vegeta’s younger brother did not think he could explain away the events that had just happened if his life depended on it, and he figured he might just have to if Vegeta were to learn that Tarble had beaten up Raditz. He’d been walking through the woods with Gure when he’d caught a strange flash of blue from a distance. And his brother’s taller, stocky comrade following her.

Once Raditz appeared and started getting closer to her, his body seemed to have a mind of its own.

All it took was Raditz shoving the female human to the ground for something in Tarble to snap and dart out from behind the tree he’d ducked behind to get a closer look. The moment he’d stepped from the shadows and revealed himself, he sped towards Raditz and the girl. 

Tarble was able to get there just as Raditz was in the midst of kneeling to the ground to hike up the skirts of her Saiyan dress for something within Tarble’s more mild-mannered personality to snap and Tarble _changed_.

Tarble saw nothing but red, blood in his eyes as everything else faded away and he allowed his ferocity and rage, not as powerful as his brother’s, but enough, to overtake him for the first time in his young adult life… The short Saiyan stood there now, panting heavily to regain precious air to his heaving lungs.

Poor Tarble knew he couldn’t stay out here with the girl in the woods like this for much longer. Raditz would wake up, and he didn’t want to be in his vicinity with the young woman when he did eventually regain consciousness. It was already bad enough that Raditz knew Tarble had beaten the holy living crap out of him.

He wasn’t as good a fighter as Vegeta, but he could where it counted. He’d been training on a relatively safe planet with minimal threat to his race with Gure to keep him company when Father had told him to come to Earth, as Prince Vegeta had finally found a female to mate with. He could only assume this woman on the ground was his brother’s bride. Tarble swallowed thickly down past the lump in his throat as he knelt on the ground.

His hands had gone from trembling to flat-out shaking at this point and it only worsened when he was finally able to see her face as he moved a lock of her hair out of her eyes. Tarble’s breaths caught in his throat. For a moment, it was as if Vegeta’s brother lost a sense of everything.

This was no ordinary female. She was a _goddess_.

He could see why Vegeta was taken with her. A narrow oval face rested on the earthen floor. Her skin was fair, even lighter than his and Vegeta’s. _Vegeta_!

How could he have forgotten? Tarble felt his blood run cold in his veins.

“Aw, crap,” he moaned, raking his fingers through his wild tuft of jet-black hair, and biting down on his bottom lip. Vegeta was sure to be pissed when he saw his future mate looking in this state. He had to get her back and maybe he could sneak her in without his brother noticing.

If he was he lucky. Tarble let out a groan. Nope. There was no way around this. The safest place for her right now was anywhere where Raditz wasn’t, and preferably under the same roof as Vegeta. He had no other choice. Vegeta wasn’t going to be pleased when he saw his mate like this, but there was no other way.

Forcing thoughts of his older, temperamental brother to the back of his mind, Tarble knew his only focus was on getting the girl to safety.

Tarble was just about to lift the girl to her feet when a guttural groan escaped her lips and her eyelids fluttered open. Tarble’s curiosity was piqued, and he used one of his hands to support her neck, peering forward, having to crane his neck slightly to see into her pupils.

“Huh, your pupils are super dilated, lady, but I think you’ll be alright. It could have been way worse than it actually is. Raditz won’t be bothering you anymore, miss, I promise you that much as Vegeta’s brother,” he muttered in what he hoped was a reassuring voice as her eyes snapped open at the sound of another voice and she bolted upright to her feet, not waiting for Tarble’s assistance. She scrambled backward and almost tripped over her dress in the effort to put as much distance between herself and this stranger as possible.

Tarble continued, not wanting to send the human female into a panic attack with his unexpected presence. He had startled her, it was in her blue eyes. She was panicked.

She felt like she was in some kind of awful trance, her heart racing in her chest so fast she thought it might explode. Her breaths were shallow, rendering her feeling breathless, her ears filled with the roaring sound of blood. Only when she caught sight of a new Saiyan male in front of her, the one who’d saved her life did she peek over her shoulder to see what had transpired behind her. Raditz lay in a crumpled heap on the ground by her feet, unmoving and utterly unresponsive.

 _Was he_ …? _No_. She caught the faintest indicator he was alive by the way his chest rose.

Her head whiplashed sharply up around to look at the newcomer with wide, unblinking, burning eyes. “Wh—what? How….? Who…are you? Uh, n—not to be…rude…” She blinked a couple of times until the fog in her clouded eyes had cleared and her gaze drifted downward and looked towards Tarble.

“My name is Tarble, Vegeta’s younger brother,” he stammered, suddenly feeling nervous and sank into an awkward half-bow. “I came for his wedding. I’m sorry if I scared you, miss, it was not my intention to frighten you. You must be my brother’s mate as I’ve seen no other women about the place since I arrived, so I can only assume you’re _her_. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Tarble spoke up lowly, still maintaining his little bow, though he lifted his head to flash her a white grin.

“Uh…Bulma,” she stammered, her cheeks flushing a bright pink. She wasn’t sure what to do. Did she shake his hand? Sink into a low curtsy? Bow?

She opted for the latter, gathering the skirts of her blue Saiyan dress, and sank into a brief but cordial curtsy, keeping her head inclined towards the little prince.

“A—and you didn’t scare me, I—I was just surprised. I didn’t e— _expect_ you. Thank you…for saving me from _him_. I’m alright except for my wrist. I think the bastard broke it,” Bulma breathed out a shaking breath and then forced a laugh, biting down on her bottom lip. “If a little bit light-headed. And embarrassed, honestly,” she said.

“There’s no need for that, Bulma,” Tarble offered her a small smile. “Raditz is the one who should feel shame. You haven’t done anything wrong. No one blames you for what happened, the fault is Raditz’s, and he’ll be punished for it, I’m sure if I know my big brother. He’s always had a temper, and that won’t change anytime soon about Geta.”

He crinkled his nose in disgust as his brief, but affectionate smile slid off his face faster than water falling over rocks as he looked behind him at Raditz.

Tarble turned back around to face Bulma and look the blue-haired, blue-eyed beauty in the eyes. He shot her a worried, pointed look.

“Did Raditz hurt you? I mean to say, are you able to come away with me? Can you walk at all? If you can, I’ll take you back with me. We’ll get you cleaned up. Raditz won’t bother you again, Bulma. I _promise_ ,” Tarble swore solemnly, a grim expression on his youthful face. “You might be alright now, but you’re not going to be if you stand next to Raditz, Bulma. My big brother will protect you. I think he _likes_ you,” he shot her a sheepish, toothy grin that Bulma wasn’t sure what to make of, though the younger one reminded her a bit of Gohan and his cheekiness. “Geta’s never been great at showing his feelings, but Father told me what happened with Nappa.” Tarble shook his head in disbelief. “I wish I could have _seen_ that. Geta’s never shown interest in a woman before, but you must be really special. He wouldn’t do that for you if he doesn’t care about you. Don’t take my big brother’s affections so lightly, despite the fact he might not be able to tell you. But Vegeta can _show_ you. It’s kind of a Saiyan thing. We fight for our mates, we protect our families,” Tarble offered Bulma a rather grim expression she wasn’t sure what to make of. “Nothing will be solved anyway. Vegeta will take care of Raditz. Don’t worry about him. He won’t be bothering you.”

Tarble offered her another incline of his head as a show of respect towards Vegeta’s future mate and held out his hand for Bulma to take to escort her back home.

Tarble was so short he barely came up to her kneecaps. Bulma’s first thought of the little Saiyan younger man was he was a spitting image of Prince Vegeta. She gaped. No Prince Vegeta, but a spitting image of his likeness, except smaller, and a savior to her, nonetheless. He did not seem as heaving with fury as Vegeta had earlier with that bigger Saiyan brute, Nappa, but there was something different in this little one’s face.

Bulma caught sight of Raditz’s unresponsive and limp form laying not but a few feet from her, and a hot fiery wave of anger coursed through her veins, and before she could stop herself from doing it before Tarble could open his mouth to protest this and ask her what she thought she was doing, Bulma stalked and stomped her way towards Raditz, grunting with the effort to roll the Saiyan onto his back so his back was against the forest floor, his face facing hers. He was still unconscious, but she didn’t care.

Bulma lifted her leg and smashed her sandal down on Raditz’s face and it remained there. Behind her, she heard Vegeta’s younger brother let out an audible gasp of surprise, but she ignored it. With gritted teeth and blazing eyes, she raised her foot and crushed in on Raditz’s nose, again and again, hearing the sickening and satisfying _crunch_ of the delicate bones in his nose. A stream of crimson flooded from both Goku’s brother’s nostrils like a dam bursting.

Tarble couldn’t count the number of stomps Vegeta’s bride flogged on Raditz’s now-ruined face because he looked away, keeping his eyes squeezed tightly shut. Though when he didn’t hear the sound of bones breaking and hearing the Woman’s panting, ragged gasps, Tarble peeked open an eye.

Bulma had stopped her temper tantrum, panting heavily, her shoulder squared, head bowed.

“Have you got a knife or something, kid, that I could use?” Bulma asked Tarble softly, her voice cracking as she swallowed down hard, surprising the Saiyan, who almost laughed at that concept, but then he remembered. He did have one, as it so happened. Not that he ever really used it, but he tried not to flaunt his powers on the planet he and Gure had taken up on, so it was more for keeping up appearances. Well, that, and hiding his tail.

Tarble didn’t bother to correct her that he was not a child. It was his short stature, it always was. He sighed in tiredness and exasperation.

“Uh, s—sure,” he stammered, fumbling with his dagger for a moment and retrieving from his sheath and handing it to Bulma with slightly shaking fingers. He wasn’t sure what she was going to do to it, and he hoped he hadn’t made a grave mistake in giving it to her just now. He hoped she wasn’t going to try to hurt herself with the knife.

He let out a sharp gasp of surprise as the pretty blue-haired lady raised the knife to her face and he thought she meant to mark her face with it.

“Miss Bulma…” Tarble tried to soothe Bulma, though there didn’t seem to be any calming her down. She was muttering something to herself.

Tarble wanted to stop her, whatever she was about to do, but instead, fell silent and listened, and could only catch snippets of her murmuring to herself. “This…is for _Goku_ … _Gohan_ …this…is what you’ve _done_. What you’ve _become_ …” As Bulma spoke, chunks of her long blue hair flew in every which direction, and then it hit Vegeta’s brother.

She was cutting her long, beautiful hair off. Each lock and chunk of her hair that went flying was one of Lord Frieza's victims. Friends. The family that this Woman had lost in her life.

Strands of blue flew past Tarble’s hand. A few locks of her hair even landed on his shoulder, though Tarble made no move to brush them off at all.

The self-inflicted haircut she was giving herself seemed to be an act of defiance of whatever Raditz had put her through. Her bright blue hair was now several inches shorter, as short as a boy’s. Bulma’s blue locks lay on the forest floor, near Raditz’s face, and she could feel the cold breeze on her neck where there should have been hair. She’d cut her bangs, so the wisps of the end fell to just the edge of her brow. Her blue hair was now more or less a brutally short, yet lopsided pixie cut that was going to need fixing soon. Tarble sighed.

Gure could probably help Bulma fix it and cut it more even when they got her back inside. Vegeta’s pride would be shattered if he had anything less than a perfect-looking queen by his side, and her job was more or less of a hack job. Tarble made no move to take the knife as her slender fingers loosened her grip on the weapon as she let her arm fall to her side, where the dagger fell to the ground. Tarble inched forward at last. The poor thing was in a state of shock, judging by the numb look in her blue eyes that had clouded over.

Vegeta’s brother wished he knew what to say, to think of something to calm the woman down, not wanting to see her shed wretched tears. The leaves of the fiery maple trees around them rustled, but it wasn’t of the wind, but of a new company as the sound of footfalls reached Bulma’s ears.

She cringed. There was surely only one person that it could be, and there was no telling how the Prince would react at now not one of his comrades, but two of them trying to get in her skirts and get one over on her because she was physically weak.

“What’s going on?” came the booming baritone voice of his and Vegeta’s father. Tarble flinched.

Tarble opened his mouth to speak, disturbed to have sensed how Bulma’s skin broke out in gooseflesh. It was as if she knew two people were looking at her without even having to turn on her heels to see them. Tarble and Bulma brought their gazes to two Saiyans. His brother and father were looking at them steadily and plain, arms crossed. His brother’s expression was neutral, though Tarble swore he caught the briefest flickers of rage dart through his older brother’s blackened pupils. Tarble was the first to move and recover.

“Father. Brother,” he murmured, bowing in mesmerized respect and acknowledgment, before doing the same to Vegeta. Prince Vegeta did not return the gesture. Vegeta merely gave a tiny nod in return, and when his eyes took in sight of Bulma, his lips pursed into a thin line as he took note of how her hand was cradled against her breast, injured, and his eyebrows shot so far up onto his forehead they almost disappeared into his hairline as he looked. Bulma instinctively stiffened as she prepared for Vegeta to fly off the handle into another rage, but as he looked at her injured wrist, there was something in his darkened, narrowed eyes.

Maybe it was his kind of silent fury or disappointment that she’d not been able to defend herself better? She couldn’t be sure, though she didn’t have time to answer as Vegeta stepped forward, a look of rage twisting and contorting his pale features in his ire. When the Saiyan Prince finally spoke, his voice was gruff and grating.

“You shouldn’t be out here after dark, girl,” Prince Vegeta barked, condescending. “You could get _sick_ , Woman. And you’ve been _injured_. Tell us what happened.” He spat his words more than spoke them, hatred and confusion laced throughout his voice all at the same time.

Tarble saw how his older brother’s gaze traveled from the bruise on Bulma’s cheek to her eyes and stayed fixated on her lips, no doubt noticing the tiny trickle of blood near the edge of her mouth. Even injured, he was sure his brother was captivated by this human earthling woman, who wouldn’t be? Her face was more than enough to command any Saiyan male to fall to his knees, even with her botched new haircut. Tarble suspected the Woman had done out of necessity, not wanting another creep like Raditz to grab onto it. She was still pretty.

Not that _Vegeta_ was _ever_ the type to kowtow to a woman’s demands, or at the very least, not publicly so.

At least not that Tarble knew, though to see his brother so fixated on the young woman whose life he’d saved was _new_. It took everything within Tarble not to allow the huge grin that threatened to crack his features to escape. He managed to hide it by covering his mouth with his hand and waited for her to speak.

“I—it’s fine, Highness.” Bulma’s voice had gone small again. “I—uh, needed some _air_ , Vegeta.”

Vegeta’s gaze strode back towards his brother. He stiffened. “ _Tarble_ ,” he snapped angrily.

Silence reigned over the three Saiyans and the Earth woman. Tarble could fathom the anger on Vegeta’s look. If it were air, he’d have suffocated.

Tarble held his ground, unfazed by his brother’s sometimes intimidating and bullying tactics. Though he couldn’t help but spare a glance at the girl. Her face was flushed as well to have placed Vegeta’s younger brother in an uncertain situation, and would have wanted to apologize, but knew it would only drag them into another fight sooner.

“Vegeta, don’t do this, brother—” Tarble started to say, his tail flicking in agitation, recognizing the growing look of anger dawning in his big brother’s black eyes as his sight caught a glimpse of Raditz’s unconscious form lying sprawled on the ground. He recognized the stiffening of his brother’s jaw muscles and how Vegeta’s shoulders squared.

His whole body shook. Tarble could tell Vegeta’s blood in his veins ran cold as his older brother’s gaze seemed fixated on the lady Bulma’s broken wrist and her bruises, his gaze flitting towards Raditz’s broken nose that he’d caught sight of Bulma crushing the Saiyan’s nose and the act was almost enough for him to take his Woman in his arms and take her in his room, tear off her dress and ravage her right there on the floor. Screw tradition, his culture, and the waiting.

At least _this_ time, he’d gotten to see the Woman’s feistiness for himself, and he was not disappointed by her show of strength. The ache in between his loins returned, though he shoved aside the unhelpful urge and forced himself to deal with one problem at the time. And right now, the brand-new problem staring him in the face was none other than Raditz.

He stepped forward in the hopes of rectifying the situation, though Tarble knew by the low growl that erupted from Prince Vegeta’s chest he was too late as he stalked towards Raditz’s limp and unresponsive form and picked him effortlessly, seizing a fistful of his uniform with both his hands. Luckily for him, Raditz’s eyes fluttered open just in time to see Prince Vegeta’s taut face thrust so close into his that the tips of their noses almost touched. If Raditz was flustered, he didn’t show it.

“She’s a liability to you, Vegeta. You’d let this human _bitch_ be your _weakness_ , Prince?!? That’s it, isn’t it? I found _it_ ,” Raditz breathed, not even looking at all surprised when Vegeta summoned a little of his overwhelming strength and wound his hand around the thick column of the Saiyan brute’s neck.

A burning rage hit Vegeta squarely in the chest so hard he hardly had any time to react at all, nor did he have time to properly sort through his feelings. One moment, he was taking in the sight of his future mate, assessing her injuries and bruises, and then the next, catching sight of her hair on the ground. Raditz had done this. His emotions raged uncontrollably within the Saiyan Prince’s chest and body. Vegeta felt nothing but anger and rancor as the emotion surged hotter than fire through his bloodstream.

“ **RADITZ! DIDN’T I WARN YOU? FIRST NAPPA, NOW YOU?!? YOU DID THIS!”**

The words escaped Vegeta’s lips as a hair-raising scream, his chest vibrating from the sound. Still keeping an eye on the _worm_ whose fate now lay in his hands, Vegeta slowly but surely shifted his attention to the Woman. What he found there, shifted something within and his anger only reignited that much more. As he looked upon the blue-haired Woman’s face, Vegeta was met with nothing but terror, fear, and paleness. She’d gone as white as a sheet in shock. His head whiplashed sharply back to look at Raditz, kicking aside a lock of the girl’s hair in the process off his boot. The other Saiyan visibly flinched a bit under his Prince’s darkened gaze and for an instance, faltered in his decision and words.

Vegeta wanted to fly into a rage at Raditz, but surprisingly, he kept his mouth shut. He wanted to lunge at the foul creature right here and burn down this whole bloody forest if that’s what it took to get the point across, the Woman was _his_. _Not_ Raditz’s. _Not_ Tarble’s, _not_ Father’s. _His_.

But taking on Raditz right here with the Woman watching would be too dangerous for her. Vegeta gnashed his teeth and did the same as he did for Nappa, winding his arms around Raditz’s barely responsive form and taking to the skies for the second time, ignoring his Woman’s protests and Tarble’s insistence that Vegeta stop this madness.

The higher Vegeta took Raditz, the more Kakarrot’s brother taunted him as he regained consciousness. “She tries so _hard_ not to cry…but she didn’t succeed. There’s only so much pain a pathetic little bitch like that can take before she breaks, Vegeta. She can’t handle someone like _you_ , Prince.”

Vegeta gnashed his teeth together as he let one of his hands go from around his middle, drew back his arm, and hefted it as hard as he could into Raditz’s stomach.

He couldn’t be sure, but he swore he felt the Woman’s eyes on him somehow as he tackled Raditz to the ground, diving at him and not giving the taller Saiyan a moment to recover, much less mentally prepare himself to die a coward’s death. But Vegeta didn’t give a damn about that.

He didn’t even care as his fist sank into Raditz’s abdomen that his comrade said he yielded.

After all, this was their way, that the only way a Saiyan could lose was to die or fall unconscious. Nappa had fallen with relative ease.

Vegeta wasn’t going to give Raditz the opportunity to fly and escape. This piece of shit excuse for a Saiyan warrior was going to die here for what he’d done to his mate. Though Vegeta considered himself an immoral man, even he would never stoop so low as to force himself on a woman.

 _He_ would have shown more subtlety and tact in making an advance, though that was supposed to be the Woman’s job, to make the first move, and she had not yet initiated anything, which frustrated Vegeta in a way he could not describe into words, not that he was a man of words, really, but then it occurred to Vegeta she knew nothing of Saiyan culture, and he felt foolish for not taking that little revelation into consideration. Vegeta thought she _knew_ , and now he felt, even more, the fool for it.

Vegeta growled as he flew towards Raditz, who seemed to be regaining some of his strength.

Raditz was a better fighter than Nappa, but still not more than Vegeta could handle. _Good_. He was going to enjoy _killing_ this bastard. For a brief moment, Vegeta wondered if the Woman saw. What he did, he did for his mate’s honor, whether she knew the truth. He wondered as he delivered a blast that sent Raditz sprawling back to the forest clearing he’d found the bastard unconscious in alongside his Woman what she thought of him. Was Bulma looking at him in awe or disgust? Was he a bully or her god?

A disgusting bully, no doubt, but it was easy enough to pretend that Vegeta saw respect and awe in those blue eyes. As he followed almost lazily towards where Raditz lay sprawled on the ground, groaning, his head turned to the side so he could spit out a few of his teeth and a mouthful of blood that stained his teeth crimson, he caught sight of Bulma.

The distress and horror on her face were obvious, and he saw his younger brother place a hand on her wrist to calm her and keep her in place. Vegeta seethed and looked away, trying to shake off the rage coursing through his blood. She would no doubt blame him for everything he was about to do to the fool. In her eyes, he’d be guilty.

“I’d sooner fight a _girl_!” Vegeta shouted, spitting at Raditz’s feet, electricity coursing through his body. “This is no _fight_ , Raditz. You’re just as cowardly as Nappa was!”

Vegeta strode calmly and coldly towards Raditz’s crumpled form until the taller Saiyan was backed into a tree. “Stay down.” Vegeta lowered his voice and spoke softly only for Raditz to hear, but he scrambled to his feet. Vegeta scoffed and rolled his eyes at Raditz’s stupidity. “ _Fool_. You only _humiliate_ yourself even further like this. You're a _disgrace_ , Raditz."

“ _No_!” Raditz growled through gritted teeth, struggling to get to his feet, though somehow, Raditz managed it. “I—I _must_ fight. For my mate, I don’t give a damn if you’re our people’s Prince, Vegeta! You don’t _deserve_ that one, Vegeta. You don’t _see_ her… as _I_ do…” Raditz panted, spitting out another mouthful of blood through gritted teeth. “You don’t deserve her, Vegeta! She—she should have been _mine_! The only thing you'll do is _break_ her!” Raditz bellowed at the top of his lungs, though it quickly turned into a choking cough.

Vegeta gnashed his teeth. “ _Your_ _mate_?!?” he barked hoarsely and followed Raditz’s narrowed gaze to where Bulma stood.

The Saiyan Prince felt his anger flare even higher. He lashed out, curling his fingers, and placing both his hands together at chest level facing the same direction, closing his eyes for a moment to summon enough Ki to form a powerful enough Galick Gun to take out this piece of filth.

His mate would surely not forgive him for this after she had more or less begged him not to kill in front of her, but Raditz had gone entirely too far, just as Nappa had. She thought to protect the _weak_ even when they were too foolish to try to defend themselves, even _trash_ like Raditz the blue-haired Woman saw the good inside them.

“What are you _waiting_ for, Vegeta? _Kill_ _him_!” Vegeta’s brother Tarble shouted, sounding beyond anger.

Curious, Vegeta glanced behind his shoulder towards Bulma and could see a look of horror and anger in her eyes. He couldn’t be sure, but he swore there were tears glistening in those blue eyes of hers. He growled in anger. Surely, the Woman could see what little choice her would-be-assailant was leaving him? He _had_ to kill Raditz.

Vegeta turned his gaze back around to look at the bloody mess on the ground that had been his adversary. Raditz was grotesque. Already, his eyes were swollen over, and bloody spit drooled from his slackened jaws. He was as now revolting as he should be, finally, the outside reflected the kind of man that Raditz was on the inside.

This cockroach who dared to call himself a Saiyan didn’t deserve to live. It was becoming plain to see he couldn’t leave his mate alone for _five_ _minutes_ by herself without someone, some other male taking an interest. It was becoming a problem, a bad _trend_ , but that would be stopped soon enough. Right. Now. With a wrinkled nose in disgust, Vegeta took a step backward. It was more than tempting to whisper something into Raditz’s ear, that he was broken, a useless piece of shit, and he had won, but what was the point.

He was dying in two seconds, so none of that mattered anymore.

Raditz was a bloody mess, nose smashed (thanks to Bulma saving him the trouble of having to do it himself) and eyes almost shut with swelling. His arms wrapped around his guts like he's holding them in and, to be honest, he's beat so bad he _could_ be. Vegeta sneered and closed his eyes, focusing his energy on hitting his intended target.

He almost never missed. The surprise turned to recognition on Raditz’s face which morphed into fear and agony. Raditz’s ear-splitting screams shattered the night air as the explosion cleared the clearing they were in, wood splinters from the obliterated trees falling from the skies like snowflakes.

He sneered and spat at the spot where what was left of Raditz’s body, which was little more than ash by now and turned on his heels, not sparing his former comrade another thought. He was starting to think she was _trouble_.

“Vegeta—” Tarble started to say but Vegeta ignored his younger brother. He saw his future mate, growling at Tarble attempting to take hold of her arms as she was about to throw something at him. A twig, her shoe, whatever she could throw. Strands of blue hair clung to her shoulders where she or Raditz had cut it off in her humiliation.

When his younger brother took in the sight of his brother utterly heaving with fury and the adrenaline still coursing through his veins, Tarble shot him an apologetic look. When Bulma turned and their eyes met, the coals on her blue eyes were added with a fuel that lit the cold fires.

She bared her teeth and pointed at Vegeta. “ **I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU NOT TO**!” In three rapid steps with a well-placed jab to Tarble’s right ribcage that had his younger brother doubled over in pain gasping for breath, and in front of his father and brother, Vegeta felt the sharp stinging pelt of her hand smashing against his bloodied face.

If she was bothered by Raditz’s blood now staining her inner palms crimson, Bulma made no visible show of it.

Vegeta flung away but had the strength left not to fall. It was going to take a lot more than a solid hit to his upper jaw to put him down. Vegeta’s jaw stung like mad and a part of his eye twitched and retracted in blinding pain that momentarily filled his rims with hurt, stinging, hot tears.

Her long nails had barely managed to scratch at his lips, and he sipped at the warm blood that broke on his lips.

Black eyes wide open in rage and utter shock at what she had just done, Tarble and his father both saw how they turned into narrowed slits which sent Vegeta charging towards Bulma who bravely awaited his open, furious fist.

Yet, as she lifted her chin and jutted it out slightly defiantly at Vegeta and stared at him as though silently daring him to do it, trying to communicate in some form of impossible telepathy that would remain that way until they bonded, and that was even assuming Bulma let Vegeta in, his hand stuck in midair as if she had somehow paralyzed him.

Vegeta looked down at Bulma, his face twisted and contorted with rage at what Raditz and Nappa had both tried to do to his mate, coupled with the fact that she did not seem to grasp the concept that he had killed twice now. For _her_. He had protected her honor. For _her_. All of this. For _her_.

The longer he stared at his Woman, his wrath slowly faded at the sight of the beauty’s hollow gaze in her blue eyes. Bulma’s bleeding and nearly cracked lips were parted, and the icy coldness of her blue eyes pierced right through his eyes without knowing the unhinging effect she had on him.

He lowered his hand with an embarrassed grunt and a sheen of sweat had started to slick down the sides of his temples and forehead. He was hardly aware his father and brother were still watching until he heard Tarble make a noise, and then Vegeta remembered, his head looking sharply up.

“ **LEAVE**!” Tarble had moved so much as a finger, looking like he was trying hard to understand whether or not the command was meant for him and their father or his mate. And Vegeta’s eyes narrowed, throwing daggers at his younger brother and Tarble. He and the Woman needed to have a _conversation_ and it was one was best to be had _alone_.

When still, Tarble made no move to head back, he grew angrier. “Do I need to say it a _second_ time, _brother_? You know I really _hate_ saying things a second time, Tarble!”

Tarble did not need to be told twice. He turned his back on his older brother and his future sister-in-law. He opened his mouth, looking like he wanted to protest this idea and stay with Vegeta and Bulma, though it took a firm hand from his aging father to give his shoulder a squeeze to cause Tarble to finally concede and turn away, though he paused.

Vegeta gritted his teeth, feeling the intensity of Bulma’s stare burning a hole through the side of his skull, though he tried to ignore it. “Do not _speak_ to me, either one of you for right now. _Leave_.” His voice was strangely calm, but somehow, almost more menacing now that he had quieted now that he wasn’t screaming bloody murder.

Watching Tarble’s face twist in a sick sense of dread brought Prince Vegeta strange, horrible delight to witness. “I’ll deal with you _later_ , brother. Go with Father.”

Tarble inclined his head slightly to indicate he heard his older brother’s words and turned away, though not before shooting Bulma one last worried little pitying glance.

Vegeta’s temper flared, but he had no time to dwell on it as the Woman shot him a reassuring smile, strained though it was, as if to try to convince the younger prince that she would be alright, that she could handle Vegeta’s temper.

The Saiyan Prince let out a haggard sigh through his flaring nostrils like that of an enraged bull’s and turned towards Bulma, whose blue eyes were fixed on the horror behind her. What was left of the forest scorched, wood chippings still scattering like snowflakes raining from the sky.

“Don’t look at it,” he rasped and shot out his arm, his fingers winding themselves around her uninjured arm, remembering that he had to be gentler with this one. _So soft_.

Fragile, but strong. This Woman puzzled Vegeta. He let out a low growl of frustration and glanced at his future mate out of the corner of his eyes. “Do you mind walking?” he asked. He did not want to risk flying back, though it was sure to be faster, he did not know if she had any broken bones or internal injuries he would worsen by holding her.

“I—I can make it, I...I don't _need_ your help, Vegeta. I don't _need_ you to save me, I...was doing just fine... _without_ you,” she replied faintly, though as she stumbled forward, her equilibrium was clearly off-balance, and the sharp, shrill cry of pain he heard his mate give out was very real. It looked as though she had injured her ankle.

Vegeta grunted in response and tried not to roll her eyes when his grip on her arm tightened even further as he tried to pull the Woman close, and her stubborn thickheaded pride refused the offer of his hand. “ _Fine_. _Suffer_. Walk on your _own_ then,” he sniffed angrily. “See if I _care_ , Woman.”

Bulma shot him a withering look though the tension relaxed in her shoulders. She struggled to take in a few more steps, though it became clear she was in no condition to walk anywhere. Vegeta was quiet for a long moment and bit down on his tongue.

“Here,” he growled, his voice a hoarse grunt, and before he could stop himself from doing it, one hand wound around her waist and he draped her injured arm over his shoulder, careful not to jostle her broken wrist too much.

He would have to set it right when he brought her back. One thing was certain. She was not to remain in her own quarters anymore, not after these two separate incidents with Nappa and now Raditz. Vegeta wracked his brain for something to say that might put the Woman’s mind at ease. Though he was a man of few words and little came to his mind, but finally, he thought of a question to ask that might take her mind off the pain.

“Was it true that you were turned into a _frog_ by Ginyu?” he asked in what he hoped was a conversational enough tone, though his voice was listless. He almost snorted and rolled his eyes at that thought, but somehow, by the gods, managed to restrain himself. But the mental image of that was laughable.

“Yes.” Bulma nodded, blinking owlishly at Vegeta, not sure where the Saiyan Prince was going with this at all. She’d fully expected him to scream and yell at her, but it did not come. She paused, looking at the man she was to marry in a few short days, wondering what prompted it. “Why do you ask?” she questioned in a guarded tone, quirking a thin arched blue eyebrow the Prince’s way.

“So I don’t have to listen to your incessant, pathetic _whimpering_ about how bad your wrist hurts,” he snapped, not speaking again until they’d managed to reach the inside of the corridor near the southeast entrance of the palace.

Bulma stiffened when she realized he was taking him to her chambers, though she let it pass for the moment. She couldn’t explain how she knew, but he wouldn’t hurt her.

She highly doubted a man willing to _kill_ for her would hurt her in the same way those other two had almost tried to.

“Why did you save me?” she whispered faintly, and she was rewarded for her unexpected question by an odd, strangled noise that Vegeta emitted from the back of his throat as his head whiplashed sharply upward the moment he opened the door to his private chambers.

It was sure to be a far sight more comfortable for her than her own room, better lighting that he needed in which to assess her wounds.

“There’s only one thing you need to know about me, Bulma, and it was the only thing I was raised for. To become a Super Saiyan. I’m good at _killing_ people. It’s the _only_ thing I’ve _ever_ been good at,” he snapped, not relinquishing his hold on her waist as he led her inside, flicking on the light switch as he went. This castle he found might be old, but before this planet had gone to shit, it had been something of a tourist attraction for the earthlings on this planet and had been modernized to fit their consumeristic pathetic needs.

“You’ve got to be good at other things,” Bulma protested. Vegeta felt his lips give a twitch as he gaped at her.

“Like _what_?” he sneered, curious to see what she had to say for herself. “Here,” Vegeta grumbled as he set her down carefully on the edge of his bed’s mattress, choosing to ignore how Bulma stiffened and paled at the sight of the bed.

If Bulma was to be his mate, she was going to have to get used to sharing a bedroom, and her entire life with him.

Bulma shrugged, a pained expression flitting across her ashen features as she continued to hold her wrist close to her chest.

“Well, I don’t know, Geta. You haven’t told me anything yet. If we’re going to be married to one another, don’t you think we ought to try to get to know each other? Your people mate for life, don’t they? You only take the one mate, right?” Bulma replied haughtily and swallowed thickly past the lump in her throat as she tested the water’s of his brother’s nickname for her, to see how he reacted to it.

He _did_ smile, then, or it was more of a smirk. “You’ve been talking to Tarble,” he accused, though the Saiyan Prince sounded more amused than anything else. “Call me that again and I will tell you _nothing_ , Woman,” he rasped, spotting a chair in the nearby corner, and thinking that sufficient as he crossed the room to grab it, flinching as the legs of the chair dragged across the cobblestone floor.

“ _Vegeta_ ,” Bulma said curtly, not in the mood.

“Yes,” he answered simply, not meeting her gaze. He huffed and folded his arms across his chest as he crossed one leg over the other. “I’m not good at anything else. Training. Killing. Purging planets. Doing whatever Frieza tells me to.”

Bulma let out a tired sigh, still keeping her injured wrist close to her chest. She wasn’t sure she liked the darkening look of anger in Vegeta’s eyes as his gaze lingered on it. She swallowed hard and continued steering the ship in her direction, hoping to take charge of this conversation.

“You wear your cruelty like you do your Saiyan armor,” Bulma replied. “I’m _trying_ to get to _know_ you.”

“You already know me, Woman,” Vegeta hissed.

“I know the Prince of All Saiyans, but I _don’t_ know _Vegeta_. I don’t know the man I’m supposed to marry soon.”

The Prince felt an odd, constricting tightness in his chest swell. It hurt like hell, but it was a good sensation, a release. His heartrates sped up and slowed down at once, but when he spoke, his voice was cold, clipped, and hardened, more so than he intended to direct towards his future mate.

He did not know how else to speak to Bulma.

“You don’t _want_ to get to know me, Bulma. I am not a good man,” he growled, eyes darkening at visions of the hundreds of planets, and gods knew how many people he’d killed flitted through his mind that at the time, he held no remorse for. “The man I should have been, he _died_ the day my _planet_ was destroyed, and the dead don’t come back to life unless you have the seven Dragon Balls,” Vegeta snapped, heat creeping to his cheeks and suddenly, he had to look away from the Woman. “That man is dead a long time.”

The intensity of her stare practically burned him, seared his insides. “You’re safe now,” he barked, wanting to change the topic of discussion back to something more relevant. He did not want to talk about his psychological problems. He knew all too well what he was. A monster.

Bulma gazed at him briefly before allowing the tensions building up in her shoulders to dissipate slowly.

She flinched as Vegeta scooted his chair closer, a look of determination and resolve on his features. The Prince seemed hellbent on examining her for her injuries. She did not want his touch, she did not want anything else except for the world to leave her alone, to let her be for once in her life.

Bulma almost snapped at Vegeta before some small semblance of reasoning came back to her mind.

 _Get a grip_ , she scolded herself. _He’s just doing this to preserve his own image_. _He doesn’t give a damn about you, probably. Why should he? He just wants his own pride to stay intact and have a pretty bride on his wedding night with no injuries…_

Bulma hesitated, looking down at her wrist and considering it for a moment, but after a minute or two of deliberation, slowly held her limp, mangled wrist out to Vegeta for inspection. “I think that bastard broke it. It hurts, especially when I move it. Maybe Raditz dislocated it.”

Vegeta grunted, almost rattled by the strange way that Bulma’s demeanor was turning around so completely.

She spoke so _calmly_ about her injuries, as though she were telling a story of something that happened to another.

“Humph. What did he do?” Vegeta growled, well aware hearing the details of the harm Raditz had inflicted on his mate wasn’t going to help quell his temper any at all, but it still felt imperative that he learn the full truth from Bulma.

“He—he pulled me up by my arm really hard. I think I even heard a popping noise,” Bulma halfway noted with a shrug of her uninjured arm and a rolling of her eyes.

Vegeta blinked, wondering how it was this delicate creature that could remain so blase and calm about something so harsh as a broken wrist. Vegeta had a feeling human beings were resilient creatures. Perhaps that was what he was witnessing right now.

For a brief moment, he wished the Woman were a true Saiyan. That would make this easier, but she _wasn’t_. And there was another part of him that was glad his future mate wasn’t. The prickly human was perfect just the way she was.

Vegeta let out a grunt as he peeled off his gloves to allow his fingers to ghost over the skin of Bulma’s wrist, surprised and taken aback at the heat emanating from the delicate appendage. He could feel for further injuries better this way, though if he were being honest, he wanted to touch her more. To really feel her. “I can pop it back into place in a second.” He paused, lifting his gaze to meet Bulma’s eyes. “You were lucky that’s _all_ Raditz had time to do to you.”

“Well, he probably _would_ have if given more time. Luckily, Tarble stopped it from happening,” Bulma sighed, closing her eyes, and as a result, missed the look of shock and anger flitting across Vegeta’s face as it drained of all color.

The Woman shrugged as if it were no big deal and kept her eyes closed. “I’m fine, Vegeta. But I thought I told you _not_ to kill. At least not around _me_. You didn’t listen to me. You must not care what your mate really wants, or you’d have not _murdered_ him as you did,” she snapped angrily.

Vegeta stared at Bulma and couldn’t help but scoff. Did she even _realize_ what Nappa and Raditz would have done to her? What they _would_ have done had he not shown up when he did? His mate should count herself lucky Raditz had maybe less than ten minutes with her.

She clearly was ignorant and had no idea what Raditz was capable of. _Had been_ , his conscience reminded himself. _He’s dead_. The Prince swallowed hard and blinked to rid his mind of the voices inside his mind. He wanted to yell at the Woman, to tell her never to stray so far on her own again.

He wanted to remind her of the horrible things she had narrowly avoided tonight, so she’d know how important it was that she take their bonding seriously. Raditz had certainly been rough and cruel with her, but it was nothing compared to what could have been if he’d been a minute late.

“I should pop your wrist back into place,” Vegeta suggested in a gruff voice, carefully putting his fingers on her arm, surprised at how supple and smooth her flesh was.

“This is going to hurt like a bitch, isn’t it?” Bulma guessed with a pained grimace, scrunching her nose in disgust.

She’d probably never broken anything before, Vegeta guessed, judging by the way her face had paled.

“Probably.” Vegeta shrugged. “But letting it go untreated is even _worse_ ,” he grunted. “Hold _still_ , Woman,” he instructed in a hardened voice as he carefully held onto her wrist. “This should be quick, but if you _move_ , it’ll only make it _worse_. Ready?” he warned, noticing how she gaped.

Bulma hesitated but nodded after a few seconds. “ _Fix_ it,” Bulma muttered darkly under her breath as she let out a shaking breath as she squeezed her eyes tightly shut. “Y—you’ve done this _before_ , Vegeta, right?” she asked.

He snorted. How that tiny spark of anxiety in her voice almost sounded… _cute_. _Almost_. But he’d never admit it.

“No. Not on someone else, but I've mended my own wounds a time or two in times past.” Prince Vegeta shrugged. He watched her swallow and peeked open one eyelid at him.

“It’s…it’s not that hard, j—just…go th— **SLOWLY**!”

Vegeta jerked his hand back from touching her wrist, chewed on his thumb, and averted his face from Bulma’s eyes. The snort she heard him give out made Bulma’s blue eyes grow wide, and she punched his shoulder hard enough to bruise.

“ _It’s_ not _funny_ , _Vegeta_!” Bulma shouted angrily.

Vegeta slowly turned his gaze. Seeing her shudder in pain almost to the point of developing a fever, a clammy sweat break out along her forehead, dark circles forming underneath the skin of her eyes almost softened his eyes.

“ _Leave_ it. I could wait for Father, see if he could adapt our Machines and calibrate them for humans as well.” He smoothed a hand over his bloodied hair and picked a chunk of brain matter that belonged to Raditz out of his hair without ever meeting Bulma’s gaze, flicking it off his thumb with a well-practiced flick of his index finger.

Bulma waited for a response, subtly getting under his skin and on his nerves. What _more_ did the Woman want? Out of nowhere, Vegeta craned his neck towards the window at a familiar flash of blue light, narrowing his gaze in suspicion, a muscle in his jaw twitching.

“Is that _Kakarot_ …”

“ **WHAT? GOKU?!?** ” Suddenly snapped to attention and all eyes and ears, Bulma’s head whiplashed towards the window, searching for any sign of his spaceship.

While she was momentarily distracted, not realizing it was all a ruse, Bulma felt Vegeta’s calloused hands quickly grab her wrist and snap her wrist back into place with a _snap_!

Her body exploded in a surge of white-hot, mortifying pain… and Vegeta was forced to listen to the loudest, torture-stricken scream, more of a bellow from Bulma.

Thinking fast before the Woman could hurt herself, even more, Vegeta dug her head beneath his jawline and suffered the muffled screaming as she clawed her nails on his arms, leaving angry red lines on his already scarred skin. 

If not for her injured ankle, sprained, not broken, Bulma would have probably kicked him to the next planet.

Her weight sagged in his embrace, her shuddering convulsions tapering off to mere sniffles. Vegeta exhaled. 

He peered at her face curiously as she pulled back and was met with a tear-stricken awful frown and a weak whine.

“ _Ass_. You could have given me a little _warning_!”

“ _Wimp_ ,” he snapped, sweeping a stray wisp of her now brutally short bright blue hair back behind the graceful contour of her ear. He took in the sight of her tear-filled eyes. “Some tantrum you have, woman. _Queenly_ , indeed, Bulma.”

“N—no, I—I wasn’t ready,” Bulma gasped out, her face turning an interesting shade of green. Vegeta recoiled and pulled a face, hoping she wasn’t about to get physically sick all over his bed. 

She couldn’t be sure, but she swore the Saiyan Prince almost narrowed his eyes in a playful manner.

It almost shocked and rocked Bulma to her core, to see him display some other emotion other than rage or annoyance. Was this like, a Saiyan thing or something?

Seeing no room for any kind of excuse, Bulma let out a soft albeit nervous chuckle despite her furrowed thin blue eyebrows. 

“Really, I—I _wasn’t_.” She weakly punched his chest. She blinked, startled at how warm the Prince’s chest was. “Vegeta, for the record, I don’t react like that. Usually,” Bulma emphasized, panting to catch her ragged breaths.

“Mmm,” he grunted, quirking a brow at her, and sounding like he remained unconvinced by Bulma’s words.

“You could have warned me!” Bulma accused.

“You’re _welcome_ ,” Vegeta snorted. “And let’s not forget, we haven’t discussed why you were _alone_ outside? I don’t need to explain to you why your behavior was _stupid_. You’re intelligent enough to know, Woman,” he barked.

Vegeta’s voice was rough and coarse, which in its own weird way, put Bulma at ease. It gave the Saiyan Prince a tangible sense of vulnerability, which was otherwise absent.

This was _twice_ now she had seen the man become so murderously and violently unhinged…for _her_.

He was looking at her through the dim light of the overhead light as if she were some wild creature, the irony of which was not at all lost on Bulma. 

His dark eyes glittered, and his wild thick black hair stuck up every which way in tufts, though not as bad as Goku’s tended to fly.

“I needed some air,” Bulma answered truthfully.

“Then why didn’t you take someone _with_ you?” Vegeta snapped hoarsely, his voice sounding hoarse, worn out, and utterly exasperated as if he were talking to a child. “You will alert someone in the future, preferably _me_ , Woman, if someone tries to hurt you.” Bulma seemed to be making excuses for her inappropriate behavior. “Fresh air,” he growled, repeating her words slowly as if he needed time to fully process her words. He turned his head sharply away.

“It’s not as if _you_ were any different, Vegeta,” Bulma continued, wishing to progress the turn their conversation had taken, thinking this was the longest they’d ever conversed like this, though her voice came out sounding rather petty. “You were outside, just like I was. Raditz could have _killed_ you,” she whined, sticking out her bottom lip in a slight little pout and biting down on it in agitation and ire.

“You’re _joking_ , right? It’s _different_ with me!” shouted Vegeta, sharply maneuvering himself to glower at Bulma, shooting her a look of daggers that made her flinch. “ _I_ am the Prince of All Saiyans, nothing can possibly touch me, Woman. You could have been _killed_ tonight if I hadn’t come to protect you. It’s what Saiyans _do_ for their females. You’re _lucky_ I came when I did alongside Father. Raditz would have followed you through the woods, and you and I both know you were about to _leave_ this place, admit it!”

Bulma could not help but let out a gasp in response to the Saiyan Prince’s surprisingly cold and bitter accusatory statement.

As she stared up at him, she wondered the meaning behind his words, what Vegeta was implying. Glancing down at her newly-mended red and swollen wrist, she rolled it a couple of times to crack it, only to feel a sharp stinging pelt when Vegeta smacked her hand.

“ _Don’t_ touch it,” he hissed in a dangerously low and quiet voice. “You’ll injure it further if you move it too much. Let it _rest_ ,” he emphasized angrily through his gritted teeth.

Bulma turned to lift her head high. Did her future husband really think her to have such low principles of herself? 

“I wasn’t trying to leave,” she replied slowly and calmly, her voice shaking from the blood boiling inside.

“You cannot _excuse_ your behavior, Bulma, and I know you were trying to _leave_ this place! To _leave_ your fate.”

“You really thought I was trying to leave?” Bulma uttered, lifting her head to look towards Vegeta, who’d folded his arms across his chest and was looking away from her, towards the window, a surly look on his lined face. 

For the Saiyan Prince’s part, the young warrior’s expression turned into one of genuine alarm and surprise, looking perhaps for the first time since knowing him, inarticulate. For one wild moment, Bulma would even go as far as to venture a guess as to say that Vegeta looked… _scared_.

His eyes shifted around as the moment fleetingly passed as if trying to search for something she couldn’t see. 

It took her a moment to process what was happening, but Dr. Brief’s daughter quickly deduced that Vegeta was searching for anything in her gaze that suggested dishonesty, a hint of negativity or sarcasm or scorn for him.

“I…” Bulma started to say, thinking that she ought to say something to fill the awkward silence between them both. “I’m _sorry_ , Vegeta,” she whispered. “I—I didn’t…mean to…to wander off, and I didn’t know Raditz followed me.”

Vegeta grunted in response. “Whoever is near and available the next time you into… _unsavory_ types like Raditz should suffice. Preferably me, but anyone will do. You can trust Tarble, the little _cretin_ , though he still has _his_ tail,” Vegeta growled, and shuddered, remembering how Kakarrot’s _brat_ had transformed and killed the desire to have his tail back.

He let out a growl and shook the memory away. Tarble knew not to look directly at the moon of whatever planet he was living on these days.

“You can trust my brother, _weak_ though he is, and my father, of course. This is much more _serious_ a threat that you seem to realize, Bulma. Raditz and Nappa have always been trash, and they’re weak when it comes to gorgeous women like yourself,” he hissed.

 _Gorgeous_. Bulma blinked. _Did he really just…?_

Vegeta’s eyes widened, and a light pink blush speckled along his cheeks as he quickly realized what he said.

Bulma’s lips twitched as she fought back the urge to smile. She was tempted to tease the Saiyan Prince a little, to coax more of whatever emotions he kept repressed within, though something told her the Prince would fight her on it and given he was already agitated with her, Bulma let it go.

“Thank you, Vegeta,” she said softly, trying to gauge his reaction and hoping he would tell her what was expected of her as his wife in a couple of days. “For…saving me tonight. From both of those _fools_ ,” she grumbled bitterly.

“Raditz and Nappa have been doing fool things to women since they were old enough,” he replied angrily, looking Bulma up and down from head to toe slowly. “If I hadn’t shown up when I had, Raditz would’ve marked you.”

Bulma shivered with gritted teeth, one of her hands unconsciously drifting to the column of her throat. 

Vegeta noticed and furrowed his dark eyebrows into a slight frown.

“It will hurt when I mark you as mine, but…I will try not to,” he snapped.

“Thank you for making sure it didn’t happen,” Bulma croaked out hoarsely and bit at her bottom lip in agitation.

When all Prince Vegeta did was stare back at her, she rose and started to walk towards the window, when she paused. 

“You know, Vegeta, it would be _polite_ of you to say ‘You’re Welcome’, you know. It’s the proper _human_ way of replying to a thank you. I don’t know how it is for Saiyans, but here on Earth, humans are rather fond of our _manners_.”

Vegeta’s face flushed red in anger as he rose from the mattress, seemingly looking angered that she was trying to get up and walk around and put weight on a twisted ankle.

“I will _give_ you a proper _welcome_ , Woman, when _you_ give _me_ a proper _thank_ _you_ ,” he rasped and Bulma flushed, her face turning almost just as red as Vegeta’s was.

“I—I already thanked you politely, Vegeta, if that’s not the proper Saiyan way that you guys do things, then I—”

“Shut up, Woman, I do not demand a _kiss_ ,” Vegeta growled, scoffing, and rolling his eyes. “I only wish to remind you what I _am_. If you don’t want to thank me as a heroine does her _god_ who saved her life, three times now, then _stop_ pretending like I _am_ one,” Vegeta snarled in a low tone.

Bulma fell silent, unsure what to say, at a loss. Her mouth pursed into a hard, rigid line as she maintained eye contact with the Prince of All Saiyans. Bulma felt a surge of rather defiant anger course through her bloodstream as her feet began to move towards where Vegeta stood at the base of his bed, his arms folded across his chest, glowering at her.

His hardened face and dark black eyes gave absolutely no indication of what Prince Vegeta was thinking, but when Bulma stood boldly in front of him and placed her hands on his shoulders, he tensed up and seized at her touch.

“Do Saiyan females kiss their mates when _thanking_ them?” Without giving Vegeta a chance to respond, though she felt him stun at her question and he briefly nodded, confirming her suspicions, having caught him off-guard, she pressed forward, before Bulma lost her resolve. “If I’m going to be your wife, then you should know I’m no minor leaguer who will be swept off her feet at the touch of your _amateur_ lips. I have plenty of battle scars from past experience. _I_ just think that _maybe_ …” she paused, biting down on her lip, “That you should consider whether or not you feel can deliver a kiss that _kills_ ,” Bulma snorted, a smile cracking her face. “One to convince me to stick around. A kiss _worthy_ from the Prince of Saiyans."

Vegeta spluttered and stammered out something inaudible. “Wh- _what_? You—you think I _can’t_ , Woman?”

Bulma shrugged her shoulders in a nonchalant and casual manner. “If you _say_ you can, you _probably_ can. It’s cool. I was just gonna _work_ on it with you so you don't embarrass yourself in front of your family on our wedding night, but if you’re comfortable with yourself, then _great_.”

Bulma could hardly believe the words pouring out of her mouth, let alone the very real fact that she was having this conversation with the very same Saiyan who’d threatened her life back on Namek and had called her gorgeous then, too. She never thought she would see the arrogant prick blush like he was right now. Vegeta was always so calm, so stoic, in charge, and to be honest, annoyingly self-assured.

So, when Bulma caught that glimpse of pink in his cheeks, she knew something serious here was now afoot. Vegeta tightened his hold on her.

Even injured, she was soft and fragile. Gentle. Small. But fierce and strong. Almost possessively, Vegeta felt his arms move of their own accord as he pulled Bulma closer to him, as she pressed her face to his collarbone. Her lips pressed against the side of his throat and his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. He hummed and felt his body stiffen and harden.

His eyes closed. He tensed as she shifted even further, and his head jerked back, confused. This was _strange_. New.

“You might like it, Vegeta,” Bulma whispered. Vegeta frowned as she pressed her lips to the edge of his mouth. He remained impassive and still like a stone statue.

Her hands rested on his shoulders for a moment before splaying across the chest plate of his Saiyan armor. Bulma moved her mouth over slightly so she could kiss him better on the mouth. Her pink lips were soft against his and Vegeta noted Bulma’s eyes were closed in nervous anxiety.

Vegeta scoffed and rolled his eyes and waited, following suit, the feeling strange and not sure what to think. Her tongue was in between his lips. He felt it press against his and their lips came together, awkwardly at first. But he didn’t give a _damn_ about that. Electricity surged from his lips down his body and flowed through his limbs. Slowly, he let himself react, moving his tongue around hers. Vegeta heard himself let out a low guttural growl and grabbed at the back of her head, bringing her even closer.

His teeth wound up slamming against hers as Vegeta tried to deepen the kiss, but it didn’t seem to hurt Bulma.

Oh hell, they'd gone too damned far now. She knew it too, the little minx. Vegeta could see it for himself in her wide, brimming eyes.

But he couldn’t manage to pretend to give a damn. She moaned as he nibbled at her lower lip, biting the flesh.

It was almost his inner animal instinct. Vegeta had never kissed a woman before. He had no idea if this was what he was supposed to do, but she liked it, so he continued.

Vegeta did not want to stop himself from being honest with the Woman in the minute. He'd reached his limit and he was not about to take one more step outside of this room without going insane unless he did something about it. This woman, this human female, this celestial-like creature with a fiery temper and a mean right hook held him captive in a vice grip and if he didn't do something now, then he would explode.

Vegeta reached up a shaking hand and brushed her blue wispy short bangs out of her eyes, and, not giving her any time to react, leaned down and captured her mouth with his.

The two of them fit so…so _perfectly_. His right hand dropped to her thigh, pulling up the skirts of her dress, his mind screaming at him to pull away, now was not the right moment for… _this_. But Vegeta couldn't move even if he wanted to, it was like her slender fingers that moved of their own accord and tangled in his thick tuft of dark hair had short-circuited his mind in the best possible way right now. Their lips fitted perfectly- as if they were meant for each other.

Moving against each other, feeling each other. Vegeta grabbed the back of her neck, growling in the kiss as Bulma whimpered in pleasure.

Oh, they'd _definitely_ gone too far now. If he did not find some way to stop this now, it was inevitably going to lead to something much more passionate and dangerous, and he did not want to take advantage of his mate in that way while hurt, or before they were branded as official mates after their wedding. There was no honor in it, disrespecting her like this.

Opening his eyes, the clouded thought entered his mind as he felt Bulma's leg running unknowingly against his searing, burning, aroused flesh, which awakened a carnal urge within him that he'd not felt in, well…ever, loath as he was to admit it. Before he could lose all sense of himself, Vegeta broke apart their embrace and held her at arm's length, forcing Bulma to let go of him.

“I would have my welcome now,” Bulma whispered firmly, and he gasped.

“You are welcome. _Bulma_ ,” Vegeta rasped, putting emphasis on her first name. “But I think it _telling_ , don’t you, that I don’t need your help? I _know_ what a kiss is. You can’t tell me after _that_ that I don’t,” he sneered, smirking at her.

Bulma swallowed. “Lesson’s over, buddy, you’re cool,” she swallowed, turning away from him, hoping to hide the pink in her cheeks. Unfortunately for her, he noticed it.

“You’re _blushing_. I take it that means you _enjoyed_ it? Naturally. Do you know how many women would kill to be in your position? Mate to the Prince of All Saiyans? You should consider yourself fortunate that I like your feistiness, and didn’t let Frieza kill you.”

There was a mocking lilt to his otherwise gravelly voice that Bulma didn’t know what to make of. Bulma's blue eyes widened in shock, perhaps she realized what the hell had just transpired between the two of them, and Vegeta, noting this, let go and staggered back away from Bulma immediately, and turned on the heel of his boots and quit the bedroom before Bulma could utter even a word. Her face reddened in embarrassment.

Why Vegeta made things so damned _difficult_ , Bulma couldn’t say, but one thing was sure: her future mate was infuriatingly difficult. He made her feel _guilty_ for not giving her a kiss and then made her feel guilty about it when she bloody _did_. it was confusing and more than a little overwhelming.

She shook her head and collapsed onto the bed, not caring when and if Vegeta came back. She was going to have to get used to him. They were to be mates, after all. Husband and wife. He was a cruel Saiyan Prince with little feeling. _The only thing he feels is pride_ , Bulma thought angrily. Vegeta had shamed her into giving him his first kiss.

Bulma wondered if the man would ever care for her, genuinely, especially after they were married. She threw herself down onto the mattress, pressed her face into one of the pillows, and screamed. Vegeta was so…so… _infuriating_.

And she was _marrying_ him in two days.

* * *

His lips burned and tingled where his future mate had kissed him. The cool, soft brushing of Bulma’s tender lips burned at his skin and it had his stomach twisting into awful knots as he stalked his way down the hallway, his chest constricting. Vegeta was left with a horrible sense of conflict. He should not have baited her or allowed her to _tease_ him like that. Nor should he have left without an explanation, but he thought he wouldn’t have been able to control himself, and he wanted her, but…but…the _right_ way.

The further he walked away from his chambers, the more rattled the Saiyan Prince became. Her beauty rocked him to his core and for the smallest of moments, that kiss made Vegeta forget who he was, what he was, his lot in life. Her lips had been hot and cold at the same time, freezing and burning him to the bone until nothing was left.

His jaw gave a twitch, the hairs on the back of his neck rose, and his chest constricted and tightened with desire. Such beautiful innocence in a gorgeous woman should have been disgusting to him as a Saiyan warrior, and most simpering pathetic women who weren’t the same race as he never knew that he reviled them, but Bulma was…

 _Different_. _Special_. _His_ mate. _His_ future queen. Vegeta was angry with Bulma, yes, and not because he necessarily wanted to be, but because it was easier to blame her for this foreign feeling of warmth in his chest that he both hated and cherished, as he both hated and worshipped the Woman.

He was upset with Bulma because Vegeta had felt so much fear and anger when he’d discovered Bulma missing earlier and that he was honestly offended that Bulma didn’t seem to care so much about her own well-being so much as Vegeta clearly did. Vegeta was not going to tolerate Bulma attempting to be a hero and getting herself into dangerous situations like she had tonight because she was too stubborn or prideful to call for help. Vegeta hadn’t thought much of Bulma when he’d first spotted her on Planet Namek, just that she had been very pretty, gorgeous really. He’d not taken in his words, and he wasn’t going to stand for his future queen, his mate, to make choices so self-destructive.

Vegeta didn’t think he would soon forget the cold, sick feeling of dread that he’d felt well in his chest when he’d first caught sight of how beaten and broken Bulma looked, and he knew it was only going to get worse for her once she was accepted and onboarded onto Lord Frieza's ship as their new replacement lead scientist.

It was a terrible, crushing, dreadful feeling, wondering if his mate could possibly have met such an end. Prince Vegeta was not angry with his Woman for any other reason than the fact that the fragile human woman had scared him so much tonight. Even if he couldn’t admit it.

That was a fear he never wanted to face again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yayyyy, they finally kissed XD Coming up, we check in with Goku, who makes a shocking deal to get back to Earth when he learns Vegeta and Bulma are getting married. You didn't think I was going to let Vegeta and Bulma get married without Goku, did you? :) :) :)


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goku has a death wish.

**9**

**GOKU** thought death was supposed to be painful. Then again, the Super Saiyan was sure he was far from the Other World. He seemed caught in a churning tide as he lay buried beneath the rubble of his crashed spaceship and what was left of the cliffside that his ship had accidentally barreled into.

All at once, he was aware of the searing pain that tormented his body. It was almost more than Goku could bear. His muscles writhed and screamed in agony, to say nothing of how the gods only knew how many broken bones he suffered from, and he had no more Senzu Beans that he knew of.

So, Goku was forced to wallow in his misery, alone in this weird eternal darkness, wishing he could have saved Namek from its destruction. He just wanted to float away, alone with the memory of Gohan and Chi-Chi, savoring it.

But the visions of his family and friends did not stay. He continued to move upward until breaking free of the mire and rubble that he was buried underneath began to hurt, almost as bad as the time Piccolo ran a hole right through him. His entire body was utterly on fire. Even when Piccolo had stepped on his wound and broken his arm when they had fought, the pain hadn’t been quite as brutal as this.

The worst part though was the phantasm images of his family and friends slipping right through his broken fingers. He wanted to rage and scream from heartache, pain, failure, and fear. His ship was trashed.

What if he couldn’t make it back to Earth? What was there then if not even for the memory of his family? But before Goku could open his mouth to scream, suddenly from nowhere, a blinding light burned his retinas. It was dim but still quite agonizing, really.

It very nearly blinded Goku, even though his eyes were squeezed shut. Everything felt like it was crushing him. The air shocked his burning lungs as his lips parted open, desperate for fresh air to return to his bruised lungs. He felt like he’d fallen from the sky, which in a way, he guessed he had, more or less. The force of the weight being lifted off his chest snapped Goku’s eyes widely open.

The darkness that surrounded him was now gone, and he found himself staring up at the bright skies of an unfamiliar environment, whatever planet he’d crashed on. Goku felt his chest heave, his breaths rattling with every sharp rise and fall as his heart tried to find its beating. Goku tried to test his battered and broken body, but his limbs wouldn’t move. Every attempt only succeeded in sending explosions of white-hot flaring pain to his bones.

But then, he heard a familiar voice. Bulma’s voice.

" _Come back, Goku_."

“ _No way_ …” Goku groaned, his mind groping for understanding as his eyelids could no longer stand the strain and he squeezed his eyes shut tightly, not wanting to comprehend it. If his first best friend on Earth was inside his mind and here with him, then she’d somehow died too?!?

But how? He’d thought they’d used the Dragon Balls to wish everyone on Namek back to Earth before Namek exploded?!?

“ _It can’t be_!” Goku’s mind screamed. He felt like he could barely breathe. How was Bulma here? And where were the others? Gohan, Piccolo, Krillin….

If anyone survived that though, it would have been Bulma. She was a brilliant scientist and surely would have found a way to survive that blast if somehow, she’d gotten caught in the crosshairs in case the Dragon Balls hadn’t worked, but he could have sworn the planet was evacuated.

Goku fought the battle to open his eyes. The simple effort took what little strength the Saiyan had left in him to give. It was as if something of equal war warred within him. He tried again. He just had to try, to know what it all meant. Why was he hearing his best friend’s voice in his mind?

Seeing Bulma’s face in his mind? Feeling her energy, and… _Vegeta’s_?!? Now, Goku _really_ had to know what the hell was going on. What in the gods’ names could Bulma be doing with that hot-headed Saiyan Prince? They hated each other, at least from what little Goku knew of Prince Vegeta.

The arrogant Saiyan warrior didn’t seem to much like _anyone_ except for himself, but perhaps he’d been wrong.

At last, Goku’s eyes flung wide open, though their torture was met by the blinding light of the sun on this mysterious planet called Yardrat that his ship’s computer had been pre-programmed to fly towards, but… his hoarse throat screamed, parched for water. Goku tried to raise his arms as he felt a huge chunk of debris lifted off of him, to shield his vision with his arm, though his body remained motionless despite the Saiyan’s most valiant effort to get it to move.

“ _That’s it, Goku, get up_.” Bulma’s encouraging voice encouraged through the darkness and gloom of his thoughts again. “ _Fight it, buddy. Come back to us, Goku, come back_!” she cried from somewhere that Goku could not see or reach.

Goku could hear Bulma again, speaking to him. Bulma wasn’t dead, neither were the others. That meant…

He _wasn’t_ dead. He was—he was _alive_. He’d made it, wherever ‘here’ happened to be for him. The memories flooded back into his awareness. Being left with no other choice but to slice Frieza in half and yet…Goku while he kept his eyes squeezed tightly shut, he couldn’t be sure, but he was almost positive he could detect Lord Frieza’s energy source nearby, faint though it was, it meant that Frieza was _alive_ ….

‘ _Oh, god! What have I done?!_?’ Goku’s mind was practically hysterical and screaming at him at this point.

Earth wasn’t safe. His family and his friends were all still in grave danger if it meant that Lord Frieza was still alive.

Exhausted, Goku couldn’t manage to bring himself to fight anymore. What he wouldn’t give for a Senzu Bean or two. He knew he must be alive, but he no longer wished to be. He’d failed to kill perhaps the evilest creature to happen to this universe in a long time, and now because of his actions, or rather, his lack of actions, his friends were in danger. And Bulma’s energy coupled with the Saiyan’s energy only further confused Goku. What was going on?!?

Bulma could tell him if she were here, but she wasn’t, so Goku let himself go and wanted for nothing more than to fall back into the darkness.

As that sweet chasm, that oblivion surged towards him, he hoped it would swallow him whole and engulf him, and that he would just…cease.

As precious sleep found Son Goku once more, under the watchful and vigilant eyes of a couple of Yardrats, the inhabitants of this planet, pink beings with large heads, pointed ears, bulbous eyes, and two whisker-like appendages on the sides of their heads, Goku whispered the only person’s name who he really wanted to talk to right now more than anybody else, “Bulma,” and fell into a deep, dark sleep.

* * *

Goku stared absently at the campfire outside the hut of one of the Yardrats, unable to remember who or how he had moved from the wreckage of his now ruined spaceship.

His body was slow in returning to him. His bones still mending, his muscles weakened to the point of atrophy, he barely had the strength to lift his spoon and devour a bowl of a truly delish bowl of noodles one of them brought him, which was really saying something. 

One of the Yardrats, a kind alien named Sobek was eyeing him curiously over his own bowl of noodles with a quizzical expression on his face.

He’d spent the last twenty-four-hours in this one’s company while Sobek worked to nurse him back to health and did what he could to repair Goku’s damaged spaceship.

“Who’s Bulma?” he questioned curiously, slurping a noodle in a loud manner before setting his bowl aside on the ground by his feet, leaning forward on the log he sat upon. “You’ve mentioned her name several times. Is she your wife?”

Goku almost choked on a noodle as he turned his head to the side and coughed, thumping on his chest to dislodge the bits of food that had gone down the wrong pipe. The alien sitting across the campfire pit on the log quirked an eyebrow at him in confusion, his whiskers twitching.

“Are you…alright? Did I say something to offend?” Sobek questioned in a confused, worried tone.

“Fine,” Goku blurted out, coughing a bit. “Just choked a little bit. B-Bulma’s not my wife, but she’s pretty great. She’s _hot_ for her age, she’s only like thirty or something,” Goku managed to gasp out, noticing how the alien sat forward a bit on the log that he had perched himself on at the mention of one of his best friend’s attractiveness.

“Is that way you mutter her name in your sleep?” Sobek questioned curiously, looking like he didn’t want to offend the Saiyan warrior by asking such a personal query.

Goku stopped for a second. “Huh?” He blinked, confused. “D—do I really talk in my sleep? I say her name?”

“Loads of times. She must be pretty _hot_ if you do, hotter than your own wife if you’re married,” Sobek grinned, the edges of his thin lips curling upwards in a truly mischievous smirk that reminded Goku of Master Roshi.

“Yeah, but don’t tell _her_ I said that, Chi-Chi would _kill_ me if she were to ever learn the truth,” snorted Goku, rolling his eyes, and then a thought occurred to him just then. Judging by the glint of intrigue in the alien’s eyes the longer he talked about Bulma, and a truly horrible, awful, a bad idea began to take root in his mind and spread like an infectious disease.

Maybe…he could bribe his way off here.

“You know,” Goku began speaking in a languid, smooth tone that didn’t sound like himself at all. He figured he must have just subconsciously picked it up from Yamcha, “My friend Bulma is a friend of most alien species. Well, the few she’s met at least. And she’s really _pretty_ , too. She’d probably like you. I’m one of her best friends, see, and she misses me a lot,” Goku grinned, flashing the alien a toothy white grin. “She’d probably be _so_ happy to see me after all this time that she’d be willing to give the charming alien who helped me off of here that much faster a _kiss_.”

“She must be quite the looker,” grinned Sobek, smirking knowingly, the look on his face identical to Master Roshi’s whenever the old man saw a pretty girl that had caught his fancy. Goku wriggled his eyebrows at the alien.

“You could say that,” Goku grinned, knowing sooner or later he’d have this one wound around his pinky.

Sensing his new friend was _almost_ convinced, Goku pressed on. “How about _this_? If you can speed up the repairs to my ship and teach me that instant transmission trick you promised to show me how to master _and_ get me home in a day, I’ll give you…” He wracked his brain for something the alien would accept. “I’ll give you _Bulma_! She’s not as _young_ as she was when I first met her, but my friend keeps it _tight_ and _right_ ,” Goku laughed, using his hands to emphasize how luscious Bulma’s boobs and how tight her abdomen was. “If you can get me back to Earth in the next _eight_ hours, I’ll _sweeten_ the deal and get Bulma to give you a sexy lap dance, bra, and panties on. She’ll put on quite a _show_ for you,” Goku blurted out his deal before he could think about stopping himself from saying it.

He didn’t know _what_ had possessed him to offer up his best friend and his first friend like this, but considering she’d once flashed Master Roshi the goods in exchange for a Dragon Ball, Goku was fairly confident she would do this for him. Goku was pulled from his thoughts as the alien spoke up.

“It’s a deal!” Sobek grinned excitedly and bolted to his feet almost the split second the words left his thin lips. The little pink alien tottered off to continue making the repairs to Goku’s ship, leaving Goku seated by the outside campfire, a huge grin plastered on his face as he finished off his sixth bowl of noodles.

With any luck and a little of Bulma’s cooperation, Goku would be home to visit her and the rest of his friends and family before the sun rose over the horizon of this planet. He could only Bulma would do it…

Otherwise…she was going to _murder_ him.

* * *

Bulma hadn’t been able to get that kiss out of her head. It was the following morning, and she was seated underneath the same tree she’d fallen asleep under last night, working under the fiery red maple tree by pouring over what little blueprints King Vegeta had been able to get for her, pondering what bomb would be served to plant in Frieza, one so small that the lizard freak wouldn’t detect it.

It would have to be planted in such a way too that any internal scanners wouldn’t register the device either. Her angry seething had finally subsided over how Prince Vegeta had fled the room, leaving her feeling unsure of his feelings.

Prince Vegeta had seemed to enjoy it, she could still feel the places on her thigh where his rough hands had wandered up the skirts of her dress, seemingly of their own volition, though his hands were rough, they were gentle, too.

“Bulma?” The sound of Vegeta’s brother’s voice startled Bulma out of her thoughts. Blinking, the young daughter of Dr. Briefs looked away from the inner schematics and away from the strange image of Vegeta in her mind, shoving aside thoughts of her future mate for now.

“Tarble,” Bulma breathed, stifling a yawn with the back of her hand as she folded up the blueprints and sat up straighter, her back resting against the trunk of the oak tree. “I’m—I’m fine, why—why do you ask?” Bulma stammered.

Tarble slowly nodded his head in response, but Bulma wasn’t stupid. She could tell Vegeta’s little brother wasn’t convinced. After a while, and only after Tarble plopped down onto the ground beside her to sit cross-legged did he speak.

“Oh, you just seem upset. Your eyes are _sad_ , Bulma. Did Vegeta do something to upset you? What was it?” Tarble sighed, pinching his nose with his thumb and forefinger, sounding exasperated as he gave his head a shake.

"Table, no, please _don't_ look at me like that, I can feel you burning a hole into the back of my skull from all the way over there, kid. I... I _promise_ you, I'm _fine_ ," Bulma begged, biting her bottom lip as she sat up straighter.

She fidgeted with her fingers before raking them through her new short blue pixie cut, which Tarble’s wife Gure had mended and fixed for her this evening, cutting it for almost an hour until not a strand or wisp of her new haircut was out of place and more even than her botched self-job from last night.

It did not escape Tarble's attention that Vegeta, over the last few hours had seemingly distanced himself from his future queen, and Bulma was behaving rather coldly towards Vegeta, and he wondered if something had happened.

"Are…are you sure you’re all right? You look like you’re gonna throw up or pass out," Tarble was staring at Bulma with a rather perplexed look on his face, looking worried and concerned for Bulma. "You're looking pale."

Blinking, Bulma tore her gaze away from the blueprints of Lord Frieza’s new schematics, needing a break from wracking her brain from this work, the intensity of his gaze last night that she had kissed him, and he had kissed her _back_ and relished it.

So, if _that_ was the case, and it seemed as though he had enjoyed it immensely, then why did he _leave_?

Why was he distancing himself like this? Bulma could only assume at this point that the fault was _hers_. He was not ready, and she had pushed him, and once again, ruined what otherwise could have been beautiful, just as she had with Yamcha.

 _Maybe it's better that I leave…_ _Maybe he doesn’t want me as his mate after all._

"I…yes," Bulma stammered, perhaps a little too quickly than was normal, and she felt the heat creep to her cheeks as she met Tarble's quizzical gaze. "I…I am fine." But she wasn't fine. Not at all. Far from it, and it showed on her face.

Tarble offered a curt nod in response, though Bulma was not a fool, and she could tell the younger Saiyan man remained unconvinced of her answer. After a while spent in silence still observing her from under the shade of the tree, Tarble spoke, absently twiddling his tail in between his fingers. "I hope I am not intruding into your personal affairs, Bulma, but I've noticed the change in yours and Vegeta's behavior over the last few hours and—"

"Nothing happened," retorted Bulma immediately, looking up quickly and she gave a muffled yelp as she felt a muscle in her neck pull and she winced, gingerly rubbing at the back of her neck with a tender hand and flinched.

 _Great. Now Tarble's going to suspect something happened_. She knew that she must look positively desperate in this regard.

"Did—did someone say something to you? Or Vegeta?" she asked, sticking out her bottom lip slightly.

Bulma watched as Tarble gave a curt shake of her head no, his jet black hair blowing off of his forehead slightly as she did so, the wind having picked up a little bit. "No, Vegeta hasn’t said a word, at least…nothing of the likes of which you seem to be referring to, Bulma," Tarble responded gingerly, looking a little shocked as he spoke, feeling unsure.

Tarble clearly hadn't anticipated the dawning look of horror in the young Earth woman’s eyes. Though his curiosity was like a cat, killing him, gnawing at his insides, until he couldn't stop himself from asking the one question on his mind.

"Look Bulma, did something happen last night? Vegeta kind of stormed out of here in a bloody rage.”

Bulma felt her lips part open slightly to speak and had been about to give an apt response to Tarble, but upon seeing the concern etched upon the young Saiyan’s face, she quickly came to the realization that if her new friend, for Bulma very much considered the kid a friend and like a surrogate little brother to her at this point, had come to her wanting to help, then it only seemed like the natural next course of action for Bulma to take would be to confide in him.

Her feelings for Vegeta felt like charging dragons pulling in opposite directions against their chains. She could no more abandon one than she could a child if she found one lost and wandering the streets of West City with no parents.

Coming to Vegeta, allowing him to help her heal, would break her.

For Vegeta considered himself unworthy and unclean, undeserving of her affections. He’d never _dare_ admit it, but she’d seen the look of self-loathing and disgust in his eyes last night when she’d asked him about himself, about what he was good at it.

He seemed…almost ashamed. To come to Vegeta for anything other than her relationship as his servant, she knew, was forbidden in his mind, and yet, she felt to stay away from him was painful. 

So here she sat perched under the shade of the fiery red maple tree in the castle’s backyard, her arms wrapped around her knees, locked in her foreign feelings of love, an emotion she never thought she'd feel again following Yamcha's death when he’d been killed way back when that only sought to bring her more sorrow.

For by getting close to Vegeta and allowing him that in return, Bulma had allowed her heart to stray where it ought _not_ to have, and now, her mind had to pull it back within the confines of which it was permitted to roam.

And with that, Vegeta had effectively turned his back on Bulma. That one powerful statement left it moving in foreign ways, ways she had become unaccustomed to these many years. Vegeta at this point was an echo. But one with the power to tear down the walls of her heart that she'd built high and deep, refusing to let anyone get as close to her as Yamcha had once.

So, though Bulma felt as though there was now a part of her soul that needed Vegeta by her side, wanted him, was growing to care for him deeply… Most likely, she knew she would have to walk away from Vegeta.

In this world, emotions this strong were considered suspicious and looked down on when it came to relationships, at least that was the feeling Bulma was getting about Saiyan males and their wives, and Bulma knew she had more priorities to think about right now than the health of her heart and mind.

And if _that_ wasn't a wild set of conflicted emotions, she didn't know what was. Bulma furrowed her brows and frowned, folding her arms across her chest. Every one of them was important, every one of them now a part of her. The only option for her at this point was for her to find a way for them to charge in the same direction, to pull together instead of against one another.

The only problem was, Bulma didn't know how to make that happen. "If this is _love_ , then I do not _want_ it," she whispered bitterly through gritted teeth. "He can take it and shove it for all I care. I do not want him if he’s going to treat me like this, Tarble…"

In truth, if she was being completely honest with herself, Bulma had decided not to think about what had happened following their first kiss after their conversation, and the few hours following Vegeta's dismissal of what had happened, she continued to isolate herself and keep as busy as possible.

She had not really seen him since, save for this morning at breakfast, and even that was brief, for only like five minutes. He’d barely looked at her. And she was _glad_. Bulma hardly knew what she would do or say to him if she bumped into him again. Not _now_ , anyway.

Besides, after his cold words of dismissal, Bulma came to the realization that he too, like her, had been chasing but a dream. What they each wanted of the other, it could never be. It simply was not possible. Besides, she wasn't even sure that he felt the same in return.

Though he had seemed to enjoy the kiss she had given him and wanted to go further, it did not provide the young scientist with an adequate excuse for his behavior. Her greatest secret, her greatest _lie_ , even more so than attempting to hide Yamcha's murder from herself way back when and burying herself in her own pains the last few years, was that she knew herself to be developing _feelings_ for Vegeta.

 _Feelings_! Feelings, Bulma always believed, were like temperatures. The attraction is warm, curiosity is warmer, anger is boiling. Hate can torch, but it can also freeze. Love... Well, that's a temperature best left under neutral. Their world would _never_ approve of such a match.

The Saiyan Prince and the _Human_. But none of them could ever understand her feelings.

Not Mom, not Dad, not even Krillin or Yamcha or Gohan. Her heart now felt like it belonged to a man that the world could _never_ learn to love.

And it was this fact and this alone that caused them both to pull away. If Vegeta were to appear at her side at this very moment, Bulma wasn't sure what she would say to the man in this regard, or he to her, for that matter. Now that things had changed since she’d kissed him.

"The truth is, Tarble," Bulma began nervously, fully aware that she sounded more vulnerable than she had ever done in her entire life, as she cast her gaze down at her lap, weaving her fingers in between her knuckles. "Something…something _did_ happen last night, and…it was not supposed to happen, Tarble, and following Raditz’s death, he…uh…well…” She bit her bottom lip in hesitation.

Tarble nodded in response, toying with his tail and removing his scouter, setting it on the ground beside him while he waited patiently for Bulma to speak, giving her what he hoped was ample time to collect herself as she smoothed the skirts of her light lavender Saiyan dress.

Somehow, Tarble sensed that Bulma needed time to gather her thoughts.

"We were…talking, and…" Bulma's voice cracked, and once again, Bulma found her voice wavering and faltering, as was her resolve, and she found herself unable to speak of the event and her breaths became quick and labored.

She saw within the confines of her mind what had been circling within it ever since she had crossed that invisible threshold and dared to press her lips against his. Bulma could still feel Vegeta's touch, his scent, how he smelled of autumn, of pinewood and the forest floor, the way he'd looked at her after. It was as if some small part of himself had transferred directly into her, and that part of him still lingered within her, somehow. Bulma let out a tired sigh and furrowed her brows into a contemplative frown, resting her cheek in her hand.

Tarble's kind, un-accusing tone broke her out of her musings.

"He _kissed_ you." Tarble finished her thought for her, albeit rather gently, for which Bulma was grateful, for it saved her from having to state the obvious.

As Bulma nodded and glanced down at her hands, she was surprised to find that her fingers were still continuing the incessant behavior of weaving in between her knuckles. Tarble frowned as Bulma glanced up, noticing the young scientist’s frown as her thin eyebrows came together.

"I am… sorry, Bulma." Tarble sounded incredibly sad and yet his voice was also clipped and had hardened as if trying to suppress emotion that Bulma was not quite sure what that was. "Had I been there, I could have done something to prevent Vegeta from doing it. Did you _hate_ it? Was it _gross_? Oh, it was awful for you, wasn't it?" Bulma couldn't be sure, but she was sure Tarble sounded like he was almost enjoying himself at Vegeta's expense, but he continued and didn't let her get a word in edgewise. "I’m pretty sure that was my brother’s first kiss. He's never been with a woman before, especially not a beautiful girl like you. Oh, god, it was _sloppy_ , wasn’t it? He’s disgraced himself, I should have known! That’s why he was so grumpy at breakfast this morning! It all makes _sense_ now! No wonder he could barely look at you!"

Tarble let out a little groan and ran his hand down along the side of his face in exasperation.

Bulma raised her head so quickly that a muscle in her neck pulled the wrong way and sent a sharp swell of hot, fiery pain up her neck and through her right ear. She yelped in response and clamped a hand to her neck in the vain hopes of soothing the fiery pain, and she flushed as Tarble stared.

"Hate it? Wha…?" Bulma repeated faintly, watching, confused, as Tarble's expression quickly changed. "Why would I _hate_ it, Tarble? N-no, I didn't…"

Tarble felt his cheeks suddenly become kissed pink like a spring rose, the blooming color standing out against his slightly freckled skin as he flushed. "Forgive me, but you spoke of it just now as though the experience scared you, Bulma." Tarble glanced down at his tail resting in his lap and gave it a little bit of a twirl. Tarble continued to stammer and attempt to correct himself as the blush continued to spread its way along with his already rosy cheeks at a rapid pace before Bulma leaned over and laid a warm hand on Tarble's.

"It—it wasn't like that at all," Bulma quickly emphasized, feeling the ghost of a smile creep onto her face and she allowed Tarble to see it. "But…" Her voice trailed as she paused, hesitating as she thought of how best to phrase exactly what was on her mind. "Nevertheless, the…experience and Vegeta's behavior following…it…has left me feeling a little bit… _confused_. It happened so quickly, and it got interrupted and ended before I even understood what was happening," Bulma sighed, removing her hand from Tarble's, and resting her cheek in her hand as she rested her head in her hands.

Tarble mutely nodded, biting the inside wall of his cheek. "You…you _enjoyed_ it, then? You liked it?" Tarble heard himself asking, and he was not even aware he'd drawn in a breath and held it, waiting for Bulma to speak.

Tarble watched as the corners of Bulma's mouth lifted upward into a soft, reminiscent smile and it seemed like it hurt her because of the cut on her lip that Tarble knew she'd gotten from daring to go against Raditz. He’d hit her.

But Bulma did not seem to care as her blue eyes clouded over with a strange mist, as though her mind had taken her back to that precise moment. Bulma could hear the slight lilt in Tarble’s kind, soothing tone, and she felt her own blush start to speckle along her cheeks.

As embarrassing and awkward as it was for her to discuss what had transpired, she could almost swear she felt the weighted burden slowly ease up from her slender shoulders. "Well, Vegeta was…he was…very gentle at first, Tarble, but then I…" Bulma heard the crack in her voice as she swallowed down past the lump forming in her throat, suddenly wishing she had water. Bulma hastened to explain, her face reddening like mad, and she quickly averted the younger Saiyan Prince's knowing gaze. "It was as if someone else was in control of my movements, Tarble. Like I was a _robot_ or something and someone else was controlling my movements or something like I was watching myself from above. It is…strange for me to speak of it this way, but it's what I felt. It was never like this when I was with Yamcha."

Tarble nodded in understanding and took a moment in silence to wrap his tail around his middle like a belt. Tarble felt the corners of his mouth tug upwards into a smile of his own that Vegeta’s young brother shot the young girl, and he leaned over and clasped Bulma's hand.

"I’m super happy for my brother. He’s a grump and an _ass_ , but he cares for you. I think maybe…he likes you, and probably loves you, well, will. This all is new to him just as it is for you, Bulma. You gotta give him a break for not knowing how to react towards everything that’s happened," Tarble replied warmly, and Bulma cocked her head to the side and regarded the younger brother of Vegeta in silence, at a loss.

He genuinely did sound like he was, so that was something, at least.

"You could not find a better mate suited for you than Vegeta. He’s a _jerk_ sometimes. Okay, well _most_ of the time, like ninety-nine percent of the time, and not good at showing his emotions, but he’s loyal to a fault. Strong spirited, everything a female should want in a Saiyan male mate. I am sure he is happy as well, even if he can never tell you, but he’ll _show_ you. I think that the two of you are perfect for each other."

The moment Tarble uttered the words, Bulma's head turned sharply to the right towards her friend and all traces of her reminiscent little half-smile immediately disappeared, and Bulma looked down.

"I'm not so sure, Tarble," Bulma whispered faintly, her face paling as visions of the look of shock on Vegeta’s face last night flitted through her mind.

"Bulma, what do you mean?" Tarble decided he did not like the look at all of Bulma's rapidly paling face. Tarble furrowed his brows into a frown as the human promptly turned away and he heard Bulma emanate a tense exhale.

"He—he _left_ me alone the second he realized his mistake." There was a hardened edge to Bulma's voice, one that did not at all sound like the bright and optimistic young human scientist that was going to help their people take down Lord Frieza and marry his big brother.

Tarble frowned. Tarble did not understand and said as much.

"Forgive me, but I'm afraid I don't understand." Tarble offered a nervous chuckle as he tucked a stray strand of dark hair behind his ear. " _Mistake_?" he repeated, looking quite flabbergasted, suddenly wishing that more than anything, Bulma would face him and look at him.

But she did not. Heaving a heavy sigh, Tarble pinched at this nose, wondering if Vegeta had messed things up even worse than Tarble had thought initially, though something the young woman had said just now gave him pause.

"What makes you think Vegeta thought it a mistake?"

Bulma found that she could not immediately answer Tarble's query, as a vision of the antagonizing hurt on Vegeta's face last night as he’d broken apart the kiss first. She hated it.

The moment she realized she had misinterpreted Vegeta's actions, his words, his expression for the last twenty-four hours…as if he'd been speaking Namekian or some other language that she could not understand…

The moment her words failed her was the very moment that Bulma's heart broke.

Bulma blinked in surprise as soon as she realized Tarble was still waiting for her to answer and she took her time to reply, but it was the one thing that tended to dampen her thoughts. Even now, a couple of hours after he had kissed her.

Well, technically, _she_ had been the one to initiate the first kiss, to see if he felt for her the same fiery ache, that terrible ache blooming within the confines of her chest, thinking if she did not test her feelings for him, then she thought she would have burst into flames.

But she _hadn't_ expected him to reciprocate her kiss _or_ take the lead, and it only added salt to the tender wound that was her heart, this damned stubborn, corded, feeble muscle in her chest at his rejection.

"Vegeta seemed _shocked_ , Tarble. I might even take it a step further as to call him horrified by our kiss when it…ended," she growled, resisting the urge to roll her eyes at the almost cowardly way Vegeta had fled the room after like he couldn’t bear to look at her after. "Like he was… _frustrated_ , I guess, but I don't understand why he was, Tarble!"

Tarble nodded, sympathetic to the young human’s plight and her distress, having been in her position a time or two before he had met Gure and married her.

More than Bulma could know. "You'll have to forgive me, Bulma," Tarble began cautiously as he fidgeted with his tail, a nervous habit of his whenever he was nervous.

Tarble bit the inside wall of his cheek and ran his tongue along with his teeth as he pondered over the exact right thing to say that would put Vegeta's seemingly strange behavior into perspective for the bright to to young scientist, who, if Tarble was not mistaken, while incredibly smart in her line of work, was rather experienced, just as Vegeta wasn’t when it came to matters of courtship and romance.

Vegeta had always prioritized training and surprising the level of an ordinary Saiyan warrior over the efforts to find a mate, and now that he’d found one to bond himself with, was no doubt struggling with his feelings. Tarble had been meaning to talk to Vegeta about it, but there was no good way to initiate that conversation without causing his brother embarrassment, which was sure to only wound his pride.

Though, there was one thing Tarble was quickly learning. There were two things you didn’t mess with: Vegeta’s pride and Vegeta’s bride, after what happened to Nappa and Raditz. Tarble himself was admittedly feeling rather too embarrassed to continue speaking of Vegeta along these lines, for something within him did not feel quite right in discussing his big brother in this manner.

But he did not want to upset Bulma even further than she already was, and as Tarble mulled over the facts, at least what side of the story he'd gotten from Bulma, for he had yet to hear what _Vegeta_ had to say in this regard, it was then that a single thought materialized.

Albeit not a pleasant one, but one that needed to be voiced, and Bulma needed to hear what he had to say, and now. _By the gods, give me strength_.

Tarble briefly closed his eyes and shot a quick prayer to the heavens above, no longer giving any thought to the consequences of the question he was about to pose to the young woman, and he asked Bulma.

"Bulma…" Tarble began slowly, biting his tongue. He needed to get this right. Tarble visibly flinched as the young human female sensed a sudden change in the atmosphere, and perhaps a turning point in their conversation thus far.

A forlorn Bulma turned at the waist and brushed her light blue bangs out of her eyes and was observing the little Saiyan warrior rather pensively.

Tarble hesitated, really not wanting their conversation to head in this direction, but sensing he had no other choice, sighed and regarded Bulma. "When you told me just now that Vegeta was _frustrated_ and…cut you away last night after he kissed you, I do not believe it was necessarily because he was _angry_ at you, nor did he find you at fault for what transpired between the two of you upstairs."

Bulma drew in a sharp breath that pained her lungs and leaned forward slightly from her spot on the ground as Tarble's cheeks flushed a bright red, and he continued on.

"I am sure that Vegeta does not blame you at all, for what happened. If anything, if I know my brother, he blames himself. It is only natural when two people feel such a strong connection to one another for things to…" Tarble paused to collect his thoughts, and one glance over at Bulma was more than enough for Vegeta’s younger brother to know the truth.

Bulma, whether she knew it or not, was practically hanging onto Tarble's every word, and it soon became even clearer to Tarble at the moment that, as smart as Bulma was, with her work as a scientist, and the knowledge that she gained from reading in her leisure time, the young woman was still in so many ways, incredibly naïve, and had yet to learn the way a man's mind worked, of which she was clearly ignorant in this regard.

Especially in the ways that a Saiyan man’s mind worked, and what a Saiyan female did for her mate.

"I…well…" Tarble found himself stammering, taking a moment to clear his throat somewhat awkwardly before continuing. "The _point_ that I am trying to make to you, Bulma, is that I think Vegeta has chosen to distance himself from you for now until you are married in another day or so, then I believe he thought himself incapable of _restraining_ himself. I don't think he's _angry_ with you or displeased with you in any way. If anything, quite the opposite. That, and that reason alone is why he shies away from you. Because he believed that he could not control his own...uh, well, his _urges_ ," Tarble finished lamely and promptly looked away.

Bulma felt her blue eyes widen with shock as she hung onto Tarble's words, and by the end of Tarble's statement regarding Vegeta's abrupt change in mood, she felt a sudden shift within herself and a brand-new mood engulf her.

"If that's _true_ , then Vegeta is being incredibly…" Bulma huffed in agitation, stammering as she rose from her spot and beginning to restlessly pace in front of Tarble, frustrating herself by not able to find the proper description for her future mate’s sudden, surly behavior.

"Beastly? Beastish No, monstrous?" suggested Tarble helpfully, sounding more amused at the moment, the corners of his mouth twitching.

" _Arrogant_! _Stubborn_! _Pigheaded_ , _thick_ , and _stupid_! So very _stupid_!" exclaimed Bulma violently, slamming down her copy of the book she’d been using to lay out Frieza’s schematics of his inner robotics on the ground next to her startling poor Tarble in the process as she practically yelled.

Tarble furrowed his brows at the sudden shift in Bulma's attitude. He let out a tired sigh of exasperation and folded his arms across his chest.

"But surely, Bulma, you're at least a little aware of Vegeta's feelings for you, and your feelings for _him_? The two of you are uh, well, um, perfect for each other. He doesn’t need just _anyone_ to be bonded with. He needs someone who will respect him, cherish him for what he is, and love even his faults. I would have thought, given everything, that it was kind of obvious. You _know_ he was protecting you from Nappa and Raditz, right? My—my brother was just defending your honor. That’s what I meant when I said that Geta might not be able to tell you how he feels, he’s not wired that way like a lot of us, b—but he can _show_ you in his actions.”

Bulma sighed and pinched at the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger and collapsed back against the trunk of the tree, no longer sure what to think. She did not look at Tarble as she spoke.

"I thought that Vegeta and I had come to a mutual understanding with one another, Tarble, yes, of course, a—and there have been a few moments when he and I seemed to truly connect with one another, b—but they were sudden and—and…" Her voice broke as it trailed off.

"Out of nowhere?" Tarble finished the statement for Bulma in a quiet, subdued voice, and he could tell the effect her words had on the female was almost instantaneous. Tarble watched Bulma come to the end of her heightened sense of anxiety, which was sure to send her heart racing against her chest and her blood pressure by this point had surely spiked.

Bulma groaned as she scooted closer next to Tarble and looked hesitantly towards Tarble and bit down on her bottom lip in fear.

Tarble merely proceeded to stare at Bulma rather placidly, setting his face to a casual indifference.

Though he firmly believed Vegeta was taking a ridiculous stance on this, if the two could not come to a mutual understanding and reconcile, then the tension would be unbelievable.

After a long pause, Tarble finally found his voice.

“Are you sure these sudden onsets of feelings were _really_ and _truly_ out of nowhere, as you have said? Are you sure there was _nothing_ between you and Vegeta that led up to this moment when he kissed you? A phrase exchanged, a look, maybe? These things don't just…materialize out of thin air, Bulma, not even for Saiyans…A connection, a bond when one is formed, you'll know it. Vegeta would know it…"

Bulma’s frown deepened even further if such a thing was possible as she glanced down at her hands resting nervously in her lap, tapping restlessly. She emanated a tense exhale and traced the lines of her inner palm on her left hand and recollected the strange fiery sensation she had felt when Vegeta had taken hold of her hand last night and almost the second her hand was engulfed in his, the violent tremors of her broken hand had stopped. It had been most peculiar, though the sensation itself was not necessarily unwelcomed.

Pursing her lips into a thin rigid line, Bulma frowned as she lifted her head slightly and looked rather somberly towards Tarble, who was shooting her an almost playful grin as he twirled his tail. Much to her surprise, Tarble was offering her a kind and sympathetic smile.

"Vegeta is very complicated, Bulma, in case you couldn’t figure that out for yourself. Pleasing him will take _patience_ , but I think you can handle him. He wouldn’t have chosen you if there wasn’t something special within you that he didn’t see for himself.”

Tarble let a dark little chuckle escape his lips and shook his head in bemusement, thinking that the next time Vegeta dared to show his face in front of him, he would need to have words with his big brother on how _ridiculous_ he was behaving, and the stance he was choosing to take on this matter.

 _Childish_ is what he was. _Cowardly_. Running away from _this_. From _her_.

Tarble emanated a tense exhale and brushed a lock of dark hair out of his eyes in frustration.

"Often, feelings, especially when it comes to romantic relationships, especially in a Saiyan marriage, and once you are bonded and able to sense the other’s energy and read each other’s minds, they are infuriatingly confusing and leave you feeling dazed, wondering what it is all about underneath the surface of words and…physical gestures exchanged," Tarble continued, a light pink blush speckling along his cheeks. "Vegeta, if after what you've told me so far is true, does not merely…he doesn't…" Tarble cringed.

But in the name of Beerus the Destroyer Himself, how horribly, terribly _awkward_ this all was! Tarble wished for nothing more than a hole beneath their feet to open up and swallow him whole, and one glance over towards Bulma was more than enough. Tarble could tell that Bulma felt exactly the same. Tarble coughed once to clear his throat and continued. Bulma had to hear this.

"I believe that he does not merely lust after you, Bulma. Vegeta cares a great deal about you, but also if I know that man, and I like to think I do since I’m his little brother and all, that I _do_ , that he cares more importantly what _you_ think about _him_. His Saiyan pride demands that he look after his mate and earn your respect. Since you aren’t mated to Vegeta yet and he’s not marked you yet or told you how to initiate the mental bond between one another, it's difficult for people like you to know what others think of you, but the one thing you can do that will help you above all else is search deep within. Observe yourself and question your _own_ feelings towards Vegeta and what happened. Obviously, this incident, shall we say, has affected you personally a great deal, Bulma. So…that leaves me with but just one question to ask you."

Bulma visibly winced, already know where Tarble was heading with this.

"What is it that _you_ feel, Bulma? Towards Vegeta? When do you think of him? And you can be honest around me, he’s my brother, but I won’t repeat a word of what we talk about, what has been said here today does _not_ leave this spot under this tree," Table answered solemnly, a grim expression on his face.

Bulma blinked owlishly at the little Prince. It felt as though her brain stuttered for a good long moment and her eyes took in more light from the outside grounds and dust than expected, and her nose tickled as she fought back a sneeze.

Every part of her went on pause while her thoughts struggled to catch up. Times changed. So did people. So did their conditions, much as hers had. Vegeta's unexpected arrival into Bulma's life, she knew, had changed her forever.

And bit by bit, she was drowning in just thoughts of her future husband now. There was something foreign in her heart whenever she thought of Vegeta, it was arbitrary. There was a reason this foreign, and in her mind, unwelcome emotion of love was invisible, undetectable with anything but their minds, Bulma knew.

Staring back at Tarble blankly while the young polite Saiyan waited for her to respond to her question, Bulma found she was feeling rather speechless. Unable to provide an apt response to Tarble’s query, but Bulma knew Tarble was right, as usual.

She had no choice but to search within herself and examine what lay deep inside the recesses of herself.

Her feelings towards Vegeta. Only then would Bulma be able to make sense of what had occurred, and perhaps better understand Vegeta's unusual reaction towards their kiss, and more importantly, how she was going to confront her partner, which she would inevitably be forced to do at some point, and she had no idea what to say to him.

Bulma furrowed her brows into a frown, still fully aware that Tarble was waiting for her to answer, and what she came to the realization was, was that she could not express her feelings towards Vegeta in a mere matter of words. She felt like she’d spent so much time observing Vegeta's strange, almost possessive behavior towards her whenever he was around.

And then when he had kissed her, Vegeta had, perhaps inadvertently, whether he'd known it or not, had managed to expose her own feelings towards her the moment his lips pressed against hers, and it terrified her.

For if she did admit to herself that she had felt at that moment, then what was going to follow that? Heartbreak? More tears than she knew she held within.

"I…" Bulma stammered, attempting to gather her thoughts, blushing as she recognized Tarble was regarding her with an inquisitive look in his kind dark eyes, still waiting for her to answer. She painfully twisted her hands together as she wrung them repeatedly, frustrated with herself for not being able to coherently express what was on her mind regarding her feelings for Vegeta.

Bulma felt her eyes widen in shock as she pondered over whether or not Vegeta had pulled away following that glorious, wonderful kiss that she could tell neither of them had enough of, was because he knew nothing would come of it. Bulma furrowed her brows in a frown, not knowing if that was the truth, because if it _was_ , then why had he felt the need to want to make her his?

Bulma felt her lips part open to speak. "Tarble, I don't—" Bulma started to say but her words were immediately cut off by the sound of something exploding, followed by the inevitable sound of heavy footfalls accompanied with the sound of shouting.

Two individuals stalked their way towards the very tree that Tarble and Bulma were sitting under for shade, the first and foremost being none other than Vegeta himself. Who was, it would seem, in the midst of being yelled at by his father, who was looking uncharacteristically somber and upset as the Prince stormed towards Bulma, looking much paler in the face than usual, and positively, utterly outraged.

“ _You mean you didn’t ask the father first_?!? _Did that thought not cross your mind before you took her_?” King Vegeta barked, shooting his eldest son an incredulous look of disbelief and horror, his aging lined and weathered face pale and pulled taut with anger.

" _Enough_ _, Father! Be_ _quiet_ _! I will deal with this problem_ _myself_ _without any interference from you_!" Vegeta bellowed, swiveling his gaze back towards the tree wherein he found his brother, and his expression of anger immediately dissipated as his black narrowed eyes lingered in suspicion and settled on Bulma and Tarble sitting together.

Something in his eyes softened as his gaze lingered on Bulma, and he felt his face blanch as it promptly drained of color as Bulma's lips were parted slightly. Though what followed even he could not have anticipated. Bulma, for her part, felt her posture straighten and stiffen as she abruptly rose from her spot on the ground, Tarble, having sensed her discomfort, did the same.

"Hi, Vegeta," she answered somewhat stiffly albeit cordially, pursing her lips in a line.

She sank into a low little bow, more of a curtsy, really, a fistful of her light lavender toga in her hands, the Saiyan greeting of respect, at least for the females to greet the males, and she could tell the gesture had shocked Vegeta, for he said nothing. Vegeta winced at the coldness and curt edges of his mate’s tone.

"I…err…I didn't know that you would…that you would be here," Vegeta stammered rather awkwardly, suddenly averting Bulma's piercing gaze and let out a grunt.

When his future mate answered him, her voice was flat, her blue eyes listless.

"Where _else_ would I be, Vegeta? Wherever you go is my home now. I cannot move back in with my parents and burden them. I’m not putting my parents in Frieza’s path. At least here I have… _people_ to keep me company, even if your _manners_ leave a little to be desired."

She did not mention Vegeta even once, though she thought it obvious. Bulma bit the inside wall of her cheek and actively averted Vegeta's gaze and walked away, aware of Prince Vegeta stalking down the woodland path after her.

As far as situations went, Bulma thought angrily, this _had_ to be by far the worst and most awkward encounter she had ever been faced with, and now it seemed she had no choice but to confront the Prince for his actions last night.

This was _not_ a conversation she was looking forward to having, but considering the Prince showed no signs of giving her peace and solitude, she knew there was no way out of this, though that didn’t mean this was going to be a pleasant conversation to be had, she could only hope that Vegeta would at least listen to her and hear her out.

She could only hope. Bulma opened her mouth in the hopes of easing the tension in the atmosphere between them, but before she could, Vegeta took an aggressive step forward, his brows knitted into his trademark signature frown as he gave Bulma a future once-over and sighed.

Though what he asked, Bulma couldn’t have predicted the words that would come out of his mouth.

“In your culture, do the men really _ask_ the fathers for _permission_ first?” Vegeta blurted out, sounding aghast.

His nose was crinkled in disgust and he looked like he was fighting back the urge to sneeze, though Bulma could tell the Saiyan Prince was assessing her face for any hint of dishonesty. Bulma blinked, not sure she had heard correctly.

“I—I—yeah,” she stammered, not sure what else to say. “It’s um, not required, b—but it’s ah, _encouraged_.”

She wasn’t sure what else to say so she turned away, not sure if this little chat could get any more awkward at all.

* * *

Vegeta did not know what else to say. As she turned away on her heels and folded her arms across her chest, she was so still, for a second, the Saiyan Prince doubted the Woman was alive.

“I take it by the way you were more or less screeching like a banshee at the top of your lungs you didn’t _ask_ , and you're not sure how my dad is going to react to the guy who kidnapped his precious daughter asking his permission to marry her, did I get that right?” Bulma sighed in an exasperated sounding voice as Vegeta stiffed.

Vegeta summoned every ounce of the man and warrior that he was, the psychopath and monster he was, and everything in-between as he realized he was waiting for her, no, he ached to hear his name on her lips again. He didn’t answer. He tried, though his tongue felt thick in his mouth.

“You’ve been training. I can tell. You kind of _smell_ ,” Bulma snapped in a haughty tone, looking away from him, keeping her arms folded across her chest. “Shouldn’t you be _resting_?”

Vegeta tried to answer and could only manage a gruff, “Probably.” A cold gust of autumnal wind shook the red and orange leaves of the tree his Woman stood underneath, giving the skirts of her pale lavender Saiyan dress this morning a light ruffle. The woods were silent as the night.

“Then shouldn’t you go back? Rest,” Bulma commanded him like he was some mere slave. He sneered. It was _supposed_ to be the other way around, though as Vegeta wracked his brain, he could think of nothing to say except for the honest truth.

“I wanted to see you,” he said. He was honestly surprised to hear himself confess it, but she had this unhinging effect on him when he was around her. The Prince didn’t see it for himself, but Vegeta swore he could almost see Bulma smile, though whether it was out of pity or fear, he didn’t know, he couldn’t sense the spite.

He wanted to thank her for kissing him, but there was nothing in his lexicon and as a brute Saiyan devoid of humanity, he lacked words to tell and the actions to show what raged war in his mind. He wasn’t gentle like Tarble, nor kinder like Father.

“Sure you did.” Vegeta heard the avarice dripping in her voice. But before he could say anything, Bulma continued. “You don’t have to explain yourself. I know what makes you, well…you.” Her words were cold. “You clearly didn’t like the kiss I gave you last night or you would have stayed. You _hide_ behind your cruelty like it’s a wall, Vegeta.”

“Vileness is a part of every Saiyan’s armor, Woman,” he scoffed, chewing at his lip, wondering where she was going and not sure what to make of the warmth in his chest. “And…” He paused, unsure how much to continue. “I didn’t dislike it,” he grumbled, grunting in frustration, hating the Woman for making him admit it. What more did she want?

Bulma turned to face him, her expression placid. “You can take _off_ that armor, Vegeta. I’m going to be your _wife_ , aren’t I? You can take off your armor around me.”

Vegeta spluttered and stammered something, amazed he could even form an articulate thought, and he found himself devoid of words.

“ _How_?” he growled, hardly daring to believe the words that came out of the Woman’s mouth.

“I want you to have me. Like you mean to keep me.”After a moment, she spoke. " _Vegeta_. Do you need to…have you been…I— don't…what I'm really trying to say is that…"

Her voice trailed off as she craned her neck upward to look at him.

"I _see_ the way you've been looking at me," she confessed, her voice a hushed whisper. "I _know_ what you want to do, and the answer is _yes_. I just…want you to be sure. This waiting to…be with you, in that way, it's a self-preservation thing because…" Bulma paused and looked away, sounding pained. "Because once we take that next step and are _this_ intimate with each other, then…I really _will_ be in love with you, and…that’s _it_. So, please, for my sake, I—I need you to feel the same way, Vegeta."

As if to emphasize her point, she gave his hands a gentle but firm squeeze, and he let out a hiss as her fingertips grazed along with his scars, those fingertips of flame.

"I need to know that this is something you _want_ , that you'll keep me, that you want me to keep you. _Forever_. That's…that's all this is, Vegeta. Have you ever…? Have you ever made love to…another woman, and if you _have_ , did she _like_ your violence?" she whispered; her voice soft, and it sounded as though just the question was causing her great pain and jealousy at the thought of him with another.

Vegeta startled as his mind worked on overdrive to process it and he blinked owlishly as he realized the two of them had somehow come to a clearing in the Forest and now stood by the edge of the lake. The heat in Vegeta's face was too much to ignore, and he imagined he looked as red as blood.

"I…I… _no_ …" he stammered and made to look away, though Bulma did not give him a chance as Bulma made a sudden grab for his arm and rolled up his sleeve. The one that was covered in dozens, no, make those hundreds, of angry red and white jagged scars—all wounds from Frieza, his failures. His heart skipped a beat, and Bulma did not react.

 _Did she know already_?

Vegeta had to wonder how much of his past she knew and could piece together. Vegeta let out an agonized groan and closed his eyes, wrapping his arms around her middle, and inhaled the intoxicating whiff of honeysuckle and eucalyptus as he buried his face in her hair. She smelled of fall. Of autumn. Truly intoxicating.

Bulma did not press him for an answer, which surprised him a little if he was being honest with himself.

"You know," she whispered, the pads of her fingertips ghosting across the dozens of jagged markings on his arm, the bite, and scratch marks. "Your heart's intentions show you where you're going, and the physical scars you bear on your body show where you've been." She paused and wriggled her way out of his ironclad grip somehow, and Vegeta could hear her footfalls fade. "You don't need to _worry_ , Geta.”

He almost _barked_ at her to shut up and stop using his little brother’s nickname for her, but strangely, he found he didn’t mind so much when it was coming from her.

“I've never…done this before, either, despite what…people said about…past guys,” Bulma whispered. “We'll go slow if that is all right with you. I'm learning too, just as you are, Vegeta. You don’t have to be nervous." Bulma lifted her face to his and touched her nose to his and nuzzled it slightly, meaning to kiss him which he had willingly anticipated, but the moment he leaned in to press his lips against hers, Bulma pulled away, and chagrin and annoyance at the resistance swelled in his chest, and he heard the beast within growling. "I want you…to have me. Like you want me to stay with you…"

Her voice was fainter, and Vegeta frowned as his lips gaped open as she stopped at the edge of the lakebed. Whatever Bulma was doing to him, it left him gaunt and utterly spellbound. Bulma knelt and her fingers touched the water and made even more ripples that continued out to the middle of the lake and dispersed into nowhere. Perhaps, she mulled, ripples were like fame, riches, or power.

The moment it grows and extends across the surface, it's nice, and then it's gone in an instant. But the touch of it though was delish.

Biting the inside wall of her cheek, she perched herself on a boulder and kicked off her sandals and shrugged out of her sandals and her dress, though she could practically feel Vegeta piercing stare burning a hole in the back of her skull as she discarded most of her clothes until she was naked. Vegeta felt his eyes widen at the boldness of the move, not having anticipated she would be stripping down next to nothing near the edge of the lake, of all places. 

"What are you _doing_ , Woman?" he croaked, feeling the heat creep to his cheeks as he regarded his mate in such an intimate manner before they were bonded officially.

He flushed, the heat creeping to his cheeks. He felt as though he had no right to see Bulma in such an intimate way, he felt as though he were intruding on something private. And yet...the beast within him was practically purring in pleasure at the sight. She was truly delish.

"What if—what if someone _sees_ you? _Get back here_!" he called out, his fingers twitched as his arm lunged out to grab at her, but his body had stiffened, and he felt frozen and rooted to his spot, stuck. He silently watched his future queen.

Her well-shaped hips, the curve, and swell of her breasts. She fed her bare feet on the water, her toes wiggling and wiping the moss off the stones. The coldness of the water almost made her gasp, and she dipped her feet further wading into the water.

Vegeta felt his eyes widen and his eyelid gave another twitch in irritation as the hot fiery flames of lust and desire for the woman who'd hit Nappa in the eye and broken Raditz's nose, and she a mere human, continued to surge through his bloodstream and he began to have highly inappropriate thoughts of his mate, the overwhelming want developing as an ache so bad that he thought if he did nothing to tamp it down, then he would surely implode.

"Woman! What the hell do you think you’re doing?!? Get _back_ here!" Vegeta barked, but it was already too late. The water engulfed her knees and soon she submerged herself almost all the way, so the only visible part of her form was her head and neck.

Vegeta barely stifled his low warning growl, almost a threat. He didn't want Bulma to get caught like this. Or anyone else, let alone another man, to see her in this manner. How he saw her now...was meant for _him_ and him alone. This woman…this human beauty, his mate, was his. _Just his_.

Vegeta felt himself shift slightly and perhaps for the first time, really regarded Bulma in a new light and took in all of her regal appearance.

Her pale skin, with scars of her own, flawless though in its own right, almost white against the pitch blackness of the water she had wholly submerged herself in.

Her slender nose. But in Bulma, Vegeta saw an unprecedented beauty, and there was that small part of his mind—the savage, beastly part of his Saiyan heritage—that despised her for it. Hated her and cherished her at the same time. It was almost _maddening_.

He hated and reviled this creature's beauty, and he craved it like a drug as well, the yielding to her. He saw her outstretched arms and the strands of her bright blue pixie clung wetly to her forehead water dripped from her prominent jawline. She really was every bit a water nymph and a minx and a tease and was living up to those descriptions.

So much that he thought it was driving his mind insane and he ground his teeth in one last-ditch effort to restrain himself and resist the call of her aura. He was drunk as hell on her scent, and he wasn't even blaming his heightened senses for this one

Vegeta was hardly aware his fingers had practically formed into claws and were raking down the side of his uniform in the sheer effort to restrain himself. His body was wallowing in its own weakness, and the racing of his heart intensified. Vegeta’s blood was boiling it was almost igniting as rage in his veins. She was playing on him, _teasing_ him, taunting him like the She-Wolf he knew her to be.

That such a delectable creature was to be his wife felt like a paradise that Vegeta did not deserve, a beautiful dream that he did not want to wake from. The Woman was perhaps the one good thing in an otherwise shit life gone to Hell itself and it was then that her words resonated in the confines of his agonized mind now. Bulma played on him, on the Mad Beast's lusts within himself, and he did not like it one bit.

 _I want you to stay_. If he did not show her how much he appreciated her, in the way that he knew they had both wanted, but he had been too much a coward to initiate it, for fear of hurting her, harming her, if the Beast within took control, then what if she left him?!

And that… he could not allow. Her head was now mostly submerged in the water, the only thing peeking out at him was those eyes of hers and her nose. But it was her eyes he was drawn to, that had ensnared him in her trap, pulling him closer towards the lake, his legs moving of their own volition. Enticing him, calling to him like a siren of the sea.

Her eyes were not merely blue, they were grey, he was sure. Brilliant and darkening. Icy blue like the color of the white wolf’s eyes that cried to the full moon, grey like the raging seas before the first ray of light touches its waves, silver like the shackles that bound his soul to hers, the ones that he would melt and tear away. Bulma must have sensed what he was thinking.

"Come find me, Vegeta," she whispered, her voice carrying as a current as her sweet, succulent voice wafted to his ears. "And have me…keep me. Claim me as _yours_. If you can catch me.”

And with that, she left the Prince of All Saiyans standing on the edge of the lakebed, and completely submerged herself under the water, and then as fleeting as an apparition, his mate was gone, and he was alone. Her words resonated in his mind, and the Mad Beast within his chest growled and roared its displeasure at his lack of action in satiating these desires.

_Find me…have me…keep me…_

Vegeta stifled a growl of frustration at the vicious way this vixen was playing on his desires like this, turning it into a _game_ , thinking this was against his better judgment, but he felt his hands move of their own accord and peeled off his armor and kicked off his boots as he walked to the edge of the lake where the water kissed the mossy rocks.

When his bare feet touched the almost icy water, the beast within him let out a growl.

The iciness stung, but the beast within him was tougher, the desire to touch his mate stronger than this. The beast within his mind gave a roar as he submerged in the water, and when the water reached his hips as well, it touched him there between his legs.

A strange, unfamiliar, and foreign feeling, and yet he welcomed it like an old friend as he immersed deeper, and holding his breath, he submerged completely and swam underneath the rippling surface of the lake, submerging himself completely under the water to join the woman he knew would drive him mad.

And when all of this was over, he decided, squinting to see in the darkness, though he couldn't see he, couldn't smell her, tomorrow he would visit her father and embarrassing as it was to his pride, he would swallow it and follow her stupid Earth customs and ask her father for permission to marry her. He caught Bulma by the wrist when she re-emerged for air, a low growl escaping his throat, his grip tightening around her wrist almost hard enough to break it.

“ _Show_ me," Vegeta barked in a rough hoarse voice. "How you want it. What to do. _Show_ _me_. I want to _feel_ …I want to _feel_ … _everything_ ," he hissed through gritted teeth, moisture glistening in his orbs.

When he felt her fingers clenched on the back of his hair, he bit her neck, wanting to elicit a response.

When she didn't, the Beast within him took over. Her eyes, that rich hue of glistening blue that stole his breath away while looking straight through to Vegeta's soul, and he could swear she saw all of him, the bad parts, all of him just as he was.

He let out a content sigh as he felt one of his hands as it drifted upward and grabbed a fistful of it, pulling her closer, ignoring Bulma's quiet yelp of surprise as she practically fell on top of him, her hand accidentally brushing against his thigh, which reignited the growing flame of passion that whelmed in his chest.

Her hands, as they continued to fidget and shake, whether out of adrenaline at almost drowning, or exhilaration at what was about to happen, he didn't know, but they stilled their movements as Vegeta caught Bulma's right hand in his and brought her knuckles to his lips for a gentle kiss that sent a shudder of pleasure down her spine. It was enough for Vegeta to know that she wanted him, to feel him now. And her mouth.

Oh, her sweet luscious pink lips. To feel them move in sync with his. He hadn't kissed her again since last night, the thought had been on his mind ever since she'd attempted to sneak off without him just now. His grip on her wrist tightened as he leaned in a little closer, their foreheads touching. Vegeta heard her audible gasp of surprise, and that only ravaged the whelming ache in his legs even more.

Seven hells, he couldn't fight the thoughts flooding through his mind right now. Bulma's very smell brought his mind back to thoughts of autumn, pouring through his senses. His lips brushed against Bulma's unexpectedly, giving Bulma no time to react or pull away, though he thought she would explain away their behavior as inappropriate, which was what he expected. His kiss to Bulma sent a shiver down her back.

Now she too had become seduced by the overwhelming senses, and Vegeta knew this by the look in her eyes.

He shuddered as she reached up her fingers and brought them to his lips, the pads of her fingertips tracing the outline of his lips in a way that Vegeta could hardly stand it. He loved the way her small body melted into his, the way she relented as he tugged a few strands of her hair, holding her tighter, closing off the gap of space between the two of them.

Slowly, he pressed his lips to Bulma's. It's soft and gentle and chaste and maybe there's no fireworks or sparks, but it's better than that – it's a wave of warmth that filled him up, spilling out from his heart and the warmth of Bulma's lips on his and rushing to every corner of his body: the cracks in between his toes, the crooks of his elbows, the tips of his ears.

Every inch of him was saturated with this foreign feeling that was like a drug that he couldn't get enough of.

His cold lips brushed against hers as he tugged Bulma closer, almost violently, his hands coming up to grip painfully tight on her waist. She pressed her head against his sculpted chest, relishing the firm, hard muscle.

Nestling closer, she listened for his heartbeat. It was there, that thunderous, rapid pounding. Her frozen breath mingled with his as they stared at each other, both of them a little unsteady. Desire and a beastly hunger to satiate whatever was going through his mind glowed in his black, glistening eyes.

Unable to resist any longer, he stooped, and their mouths pressed together in a long, passionate kiss. She drew her tongue over his teeth and swallowed his groan of pleasure as they slid closer to each other, no visible gap between them.

Vegeta stirred, shifting her so that she was practically straddling his lap, both of his hands coming up to grip almost painfully tight on his waist. Vegeta could not help but feel drawn to it, to her smile as she met his gaze. He wanted it to stay.

As her soft lips stretched into the smile that did not quite meet Bulma's eyes, they were lit with such a familiar sadness.

One that Vegeta was all too used to seeing within his own reflection, though he vehemently attempted to deny feeling such an emotion, thinking it beneath him, though the forced expression of the contrary on Bulma's mouth would have looked quite comical to Vegeta if it did not currently make his heart feel heavy as he laid there.

For a few moments, as he stared at Bulma, he was almost quite certain that his mate's expression mirrored his own. It broke his heart, what _little_ heart he did possess to begin with. Suddenly, he did not want her to leave.

Vegeta did not want to turn into a random image that floated deep within the recesses of Bulma's memory one day. He did not want to be the smile that squeezed her chest somewhere far away when he didn't make his true feelings known.

He didn't want her to leave him.

He did not want his Woman to go with Lord Frieza and _leave_. He wanted Bulma and her beautiful smile to stay. She noticed him looking, and smiled, biting her bottom lip, and sticking it out in a slight pout, quirking a delicately shaped brow at Vegeta.

"Convince me to stay, Vegeta. Mark me. Like you wish for me to stay," she said, her lips parted slightly as she whispered it into the shell of Vegeta's right ear. "Convince me to stay if that is what you wish. Plead for me to stay... _Please_."

It was the use of the world _please_ that did it and he felt a sudden shift within himself, and the low growl that escaped him this time was not one of anger and triteness, but of pleasure, and this time, he did not bother to restrain himself.

Her hand moved gently down Vegeta's face, moving down past his bare and prominent collarbone.

He let out a growl as her gaze drifted downwards towards his chest, at the dozens of angry red scars, courtesy of the Mad Beast, that animal, that monster, that demon within him. Already, his brain felt like it was on fire.

Bulma was his celestial blue-haired goddess, his beautiful angel with the fingertips of flame that Vegeta knew he did not deserve such a delectable creature in his life.

The cold forest already felt warm as Vegeta heard Bulma gasp as her fingertips traced down his hundreds of scars.

"You're _staring_ , Woman," he commented, stifling a bemused smile as she blushed under the scrutiny of his gaze and made to turn away, a light pink blush speckling along her cheeks as she squirmed on top of him, attempting to wrench herself off of him and move away, but his hand slid out and slid across Bulma's hips, stalling her movements. "I never claimed that I did not like it," he murmured, burying his face in the crook of her neck. "I want you to look at me."

Vegeta let out a groan as he could hear the hoarseness and desire in his own voice for the angel that straddled his lap on top of him, as his free hand not gripping onto her waist slipped underneath her. She was warm already and felt like home.

Trust me when I tell you that I… won't…hurt you… I’ll try not to," he urged, repressing a groan, closing his eyes as Vegeta felt Bulma jerk her hips away with a sound that might have been a muted noise of pleasure before her voice trailed off quickly and she fell silent. " _Show_ me," he encouraged, his fingers tightening on her thighs, raking down alongside her legs. "How you want it," he urged, hearing the desperation in his voice, relishing in Bulma's groan as Vegeta drew his hand away, just too soon, when she was trembling. " _Together_ ," he whispered, as her lips lowered and captured his, albeit not roughly like he was used to doing in times when she would resist him. But…gently.

Vegeta groaned again as she shifted on top of his weight and slowly showed him how she wanted it, her movements slow but…tender, and almost…dare he think it, affectionate. The cold forest already felt warm. It was hard for Vegeta to hold back, to make the moment last.

It was rushed, panicked, and desperate. The way that her mouth was soft as she panted for breath.

Slowly, Vegeta ran his hands down her body. Her skin was so flawless, smooth, and perfect, soft on her hips, and she cried out only once as Vegeta did not let her take the lead, continuing with his efforts to please her the way that she claimed to want, leaving a gentle trail of kisses down her neck and to her collarbones, hearing her whimpers and feeling her body shift beneath his own.

He set a growl with each push, hunger dawning on him like a beast to its prey, but then he slowed midway through, wanting to make their moment last. The desperation between them was incendiary.

In an overpowering need to ease the ache, Vegeta positioned himself at her entrance and fitted himself perfectly into his mate, no longer giving a damn to wait for their wedding, and sank deep inside the tight warmth of her body. His Woman threw her head back and moaned.

Bulma rotated her hips once, the motion sucking the breath from his lungs. Completely unleashed, he thrust into her with all lack of restraint.

She moaned his name each and every time he filled her. Her nails dug into his shoulders and back hard enough to leave scratches, frantic and desperate. Hands pressed into her hips. Her ankles locked behind his back, groaning as his teeth grazed against her throat. Fingers threaded through his jet-black hair.

"I'm . . . I'm so . . .don’t _stop_ ," she muttered incoherently as her body tightened painfully around him. Bulma's breathing became uneven, cracking, and she jerked forward as he finished, the stars becoming novae in her eyes. 

She twitched slightly as he drew away, rolling her head to one side, exposing the curve of her neck, the beautiful shell of her ear, shuddering as he gently nipped her earlobe, and whispered something to Bulma. Something for her ears only, the promise of what was coming next.

When she kissed Vegeta, his brain lit on fire and the warmth spread throughout his entire body, the heat that she gave off scorching. After that, he was addicted, he couldn't bear to not be with her, and at the moment, Vegeta felt like he could barely breathe when she was around.

Those kisses were his salvation and his torment, his purpose, and his anguish.

Vegeta lived for them and he would die with the memory of them on his lips. He dedicated his life to being with Bulma from the moment of that kiss, for he knew that if he lost her, he would lose himself. She was the half that made him whole.

"This is what you've been _missing_ ," she whispered into the shell of his ear. " _Feel_ me. Have me. Every drop…every pulse…all of it. Love me, Vegeta. Mark me…"

Vegeta groaned and nestled in the crook of her neck, clenching his eyes, and allowing the Beast within to take total and utter control, perhaps for the first time in his life, surrendering to the Mad Beast, the Beast that he worked so hard to repress over his life. He heard the Beast roar as the Beast never done in times past.

Pleasure waves surged through his scarred body, searing him, branding him hotter than any dragon fire could ever flame, breaking him and rocking him to his core. His nostrils flared and the Beast could smell the want emanating off of his partner in waves, and he knew that either way, be it the Beast or him, she wanted this.

Wanted _him_. Bulma hurled her head back with eyes closed, feeling his excitement seep and extend into her.

She was slowing down, and in that split second before her touch every nerve in Vegeta's body and brain became electrified. It's the anticipation of being together in a way that's more than words, in a way that's so completely tangible.

One-touch and it was over, it was always that way with Bulma. She felt electricity in her skin, hormones shutting down of her higher brain and the rise of her animal self. From there on in it was all passion, intense, intoxicating.

It was her release, her escape, her drug. He was her escape. They became one, one mind with one goal and purpose, each utterly drunk with love for the other. And then, everything ceased, their heartbeats slowed, almost in tandem with one another, only their harsh breathing split the otherwise silent air.

Before Vegeta could lose all semblance of himself, he pressed her face against hers, nuzzling her cheek with his nose. He wished to mark her as his before anything else happened.

The Woman swayed in his firm grip, a barely audible moan escaping her mouth as his lips pressed delicately to your skin.

"Are you ready? There is no going back once I do this. It's permanent. Once I do, you’re _mine_ , and no one but _me_ touches you, Woman," he murmured, his hot breath sending goosebumps all along the column of her throat. "This is the part that's going to _hurt_ ," he growled.

Bulma nodded hastily, fastening her gaze on the beach in front of her, focusing on her breathing alone, deep through her lips. Inhale, exhale, repeat. The moment Vegeta felt his Woman shift against his embrace was the split second when he lowered his head to her neck once more, he bared his incisors. He impaled them into the junction between Bulma’s neck and her shoulder, marking her as his mate for the rest of their natural-born days, as long as they would both live, and Vegeta’s alone.

She cried out in shock and pain before leaning against him as the mad beast within Vegeta tasted her blood.

What was that she thought she'd known pain? Though she felt like her insides were burning and being torn apart, Bulma knew she didn't want to scream or cry from her pain. Instead, she settled for biting down as hard as she possibly could on her lower lip, tasting blood.

Everything _hurt_ , everything burned, especially her neck and her right shoulder blade as he marked her.

Tears formed in the corners of her eyes, her nails digging hard into Vegeta’s arm to focus on a different kind of pain, a much more familiar one when she heard his gruff voice commanding her.

“ _Breathe_.” Vegeta’s voice almost startled Bulma and her eyes snapped wide open, immediately stumbling on his pale gaze, though he left her with no time to react. There was a white-hot explosion behind his lids and in his brain as the wolf within him tasted his mate's blood.

He could almost feel the power surge through his body. He held onto Bulma tightly, one hand entwined tightly around her slender middle, the other holding her head in position, willing his future queen not to move if she could help it.

It took everything within him not to drain poor Bulma totally dry, and when he pulled back, her blood now staining his lips, he watched for several more minutes as droplets of her own blood oozed from the puncture marks at her shoulder.

He took his eyes off her for a moment as soon as the bleeding stopped and looked at Bulma.

Her cheeks were painted a rosy pink, flushed high with color and her eyes were heavily-lidded and had the far off look of women who'd just been rocked to their cores by the throes of a vicious yet pleasurable ecstasy.

Bulma didn't seem to be in pain which was a good thing.

Slowly but surely, Vegeta lowered his head towards Bulma's, catching her lips with his in a kiss.

The kiss deepened slightly, and she leaned against his body for support. He could feel her tremble beneath his touch, and it was the feel of her body against his that sent Vegeta over the edge as he released inside her, roaring like the mad beast in his mind had never done before.

As he finished, Vegeta felt like he never wanted to move again if he could help it. What he had just experienced was more than anything he could have ever imagined in his life. He wanted to be there forever. Her arms around him. Her body around him. It felt so goddamn fucking good.

He couldn’t put it into words. He felt Bulma wriggling beneath him and he pulled back. He could see the pain on her face and he reluctantly pulled out of her, already missing the heat his Woman gave off, and Vegeta felt his sour mood return once more, though he had no time to dwell on it as Bulma spoke up.

“Can we…do that again soon?” Bulma gasped, heaving for breath, as he dressed and Bulma did the same, once they were fully clothed and trying to brush the moss and dirt from their clothes to throw off suspicion, from behind, the sound of a breaking branch cut Bulma off mid-sentence and before Vegeta could answer.

Vegeta let out a grunt of surprise and flung out an arm in front of his Woman in case it was a creature of the woods, or even worse, one of Lord Frieza’s stupid _spies_.

Bulma’s eyes went wide as the leaves of the bushes and trees rustled, and she had no time to react as Goku’s tall form materialized out of thin air with a loud _crack_! causing Bulma to leap backward, a hand over her heart in shock at his sudden appearance, and shot Bulma a cheeky white grin and carded his hand through his thick tuft of jet-black hair, ignoring Vegeta's spluttering and his look of fuming outrage as he realized what had just happened.

“Oh, hey, Bulma! I thought I would find you out here! My—my ship crashed a mile or so away from here. I thought I heard you guys,” he grinned before turning to Vegeta and offering the Prince of All Saiyans a sly grin. “Vegeta, you _dog_. I didn’t believe it when your brother told me you got a thing for Bulma, but I guess proof’s in the pudding. You and _Bulma_?!"

Goku paused and took in the sight of their flustered expressions, at the pieces of grass on Vegeta's uniform, at the smudge of dirt and the teeth marks and blood on Bulma's neck, and he erupted into laughter.

" **NO WAY! YOU TWO DID IT?**!? Guess I had to see it to believe it. Don’t worry, Bulma, I didn’t see your _boobies_ if that’s what you’re worried about, I’ve already seen them so it’s not like you have to hide anything from me, you know, we’re _buddies_!”

Kakarot grinned, erupting into a wicked bout of vicious and yet innocent-sounding laughter, clutching at a stitch in his side as the mental image of Bulma and Vegeta a thing flitted in his mind, his strength in his knees leaving him as his laughing fit overcame him and his shoulders started to shake with laughter.

Goku darted out of the way as Bulma kicked off one of her sandals and threw it, looking at Prince Vegeta, whose face was reddened and positively furious as the Prince spluttered and stammered to say something— _anything_ —but he had been rendered mute by Kakarot’s appearance.

Bulma felt something in her snap realizing what Goku’s words meant.

“Y **OU WERE WATCHING US? GOKU, YOU IDIOT?!? WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU**?”

Bulma _screamed as_ she ranted and raved _,_ both in outrage as her face reddened in anger and utter embarrassment. Blood pounding and rushing to her head, Bulma groped for anything she could to throw at Goku biting down the smirk from consuming him. She didn’t even have to look at Vegeta to know he was close to exploding like a gasket. His face was beet red, and he seemed shellshocked and at a loss for words.

Goku knew he’d made a mistake the minute he lifted his gaze from Bulma’s red face and looked to Vegeta, at his tense and rigid form and how beet red his face was, the way waves of black fury seemed to emanate off the Saiyan, his fists clenched violently and shaking at his sides, but there wasn’t much he could have said at this point. Goku felt a pin drop before the inevitable _explosion_ of Vegeta’s anger destroyed the awkward tension between the three of them.

“ **KAKAROT**!”

Goku gulped nervously. A burning animosity was developing in those black eyes of his, and Goku could tell he was likely the root cause of his problem. And, if judging by the seething look in his eyes, Goku was about to find himself in a spot of trouble he wasn’t sure he could talk his way out of with Vegeta.

Very. Deep. Trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Goku, you gonna die XD


	10. Chapter 10

**10**

**VEGETA** had never liked Kakarot since meeting Raditz’s younger brother, but this was too much. He’d gone too far.

He felt the urge to kill pump through his veins as a surge of electricity crackled through his limbs, boiling his blood within his veins as his heartbeat erratically within his chest at the humiliation he’d just suffered.

He didn’t give a good _goddamn_ if the Woman watched or what she wanted.

He was _not_ going to let Bardock’s _brat_ get away with this. Vegeta gritted his teeth and balled his hands into fists, his face positively red at all the blood having rushed to his head, his mind feeling like it was reeling from all that had happened to him.

“ **YOU DAMN FOOL!** **WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU, YOU BASTARD? HOW DARE YOU?!**? **DID YOU WANT TO SEE MY POWER THAT BADLY?!? ARE YOU REALLY THAT PATHETIC, KAKAROT?!? HOW COULD YOU?!? DON’T YOU HAVE ANY SENSE AT ALL?** ” Vegeta bellowed, feeling a vein in his neck and above his brow start to twitch.

A horrible screaming pressure exploded at the front of his head and with a hair-raising cry of rage that escaped his lips, Vegeta flew directly in the path of Kakarot, still staring at _his_ Woman with that stupid shit-eating grin he was going to wipe clean off his face as his anger soared to new levels.

A burning rage coursed through Vegeta’s entire body so hard he didn’t have time to properly sort out his emotions.

One minute he was mulling over if he’d ever felt so…so… _complete_ , so whole, never wanting to move again at all if he could possibly help it, to bask in the Woman’s warmth selfishly and keep it for himself, and then _Kakarot_ showing up _ruined_ it and his good mood plummeted.

Shock jolted through Vegeta’s belly as he looked at Kakarot, who didn’t seem to see anything wrong with the fact he’d accidentally walked in on _that,_ an experience that was meant to be private.

He seethed, glancing at the Woman out of the corner of his peripherals. It was enough. Her flushed face, the look of shock and horror that he was sure had mirrored his current expression that he wore. It was enough cause for Prince Vegeta to act. He didn’t give a _damn_ if Kakarot was Bulma’s best friend or not.

He had _humiliated_ her, embarrassed them both by walking in on what was supposed to have been a private moment for just the two of them to experience together, and now, he mocked them for it.

He mocked the one person in his small and lonely world who did not fear him or hate him, did not think him to be a monster, or look at him with any semblance of contempt or disgust in those blue eyes of hers.

The Saiyan Prince let go of his last shred of restraint that he’d been holding back from, not wanting the Woman to become so distressed over this, but he was past the point of no return. From _this_ , there was no going back for Vegeta.

He let it go, curling his fingers into fists, for his restraint would do him no good against Kakarot, and faster than even the other Saiyan thought possible, Prince Vegeta launched himself forward in a rage towards Kakarot’s position, a cry of rage upon his lips, ignoring the Woman’s protests to stop.

He was not going to let any harm come to her, or any further embarrassment, especially from him.

He would protect her. It was his given right and responsibility the moment he had claimed the Woman as _his_.

Vegeta was _not_ going to let Kakarot humiliate either one of them anymore, but especially his Woman.

This had gone too far, and now, Kakarot would pay with his wretched stupid and disgusting life. Kakarot was going to _pay_ for this for his blood.

Almost faintly, Prince Vegeta could hear the Woman’s voice, angry, but much more subdued the moment she heard a low, threatening growl rumble from deep within his chest as he barreled straight towards Kakarot’s location.

Unbeknownst to Prince Vegeta, despite the rage and anger coursing through Bulma’s bloodstream at the revelation Goku had overheard Vegeta marking her and making love to her for the first time, a new fear threatened to consume her wholly.

She had thought she’d seen the Prince of All Saiyans angry with those other Saiyans under his command, Goku’s asshole brother, and the bald one, but this was on a whole new level.

It wasn’t a change that she liked, and what was even _worse_ , Vegeta’s anger was directed at _Goku_. Her best friend, as annoying and a pain in the ass as the Saiyan man could be sometimes.

Prince Vegeta’s black eyes had shifted, darkening until almost the whites of his irises had gone black too that burned with a rage that she hadn’t seen in the Saiyan, not even the other day when 'taking care of’ Nappa and Raditz, as he’d put it.

The almost wolfish growl he’d released from deep within his chest sent a shudder of fear down Bulma’s spine.

Somewhere deep within, she knew Vegeta would never hurt her, at least not on purpose, but seeing him act so savage towards Goku, who looked like he didn’t want to fight with Vegeta over this, it was almost frightening to her.

Bulma cringed as Vegeta flew straight towards Goku and landed at least one solid punch to Goku’s abdomen, pummeling his fist to his right side before Goku vanished.

_Vegeta, don’t do this, goddamn it, Goku’s a moron, but he isn’t **WORTH** it!_

Bulma squeezed her eyes tightly shut and tried to communicate with the Saiyan Prince in some sort of impossible telepathy.

His little brother Tarble had made mention a couple of times now how the women once they were bonded to their mates, how they could communicate with one another telepathically, and at least Vegeta would be able to sense her energy levels and her moods.

She wasn’t sure if she would have that capability, she _was_ only _human_ after all, but it was well with the damn shot. Bulma sensed that Vegeta, at least around her, wasn’t a violent person, not a man who lived in anger and rage.

When around her, if not a little bit gruff, he could be kind. He had done as he said and hadn’t hurt her just now.

_Don’t do it, Vegeta! You’ll regret it! Stop! STOP!_

Bulma felt a stab of a panic prick at her heart as Vegeta barreled towards Goku with a truly murderous look in his eyes. She squeezed her eyes shut and screamed the Saiyan Prince’s name in her mind, hoping he could somehow hear her thoughts for himself.

**_VEGETA_!**

* * *

Goku didn’t have time to get out of the way, much less move, before Vegeta’s powerful hand latched itself around his forearm and squeezed, hard enough to break his left arm.

“ _What are you doing, Kakarot_?” Vegeta roared in a terrifying voice that sounded hoarse and hard as he drew his arm back and hefted it, growling in frustration as Kakarot disappeared before his fist could land a solid blow.

Vegeta gnashed his teeth together and throttled his urge to roar like an enraged dragon as he felt a lump in his throat form, whirling around behind him to see Kakarot with his hands raised.

He didn’t look like he wanted to fight him, but to bloody hell with what Kakarot wanted. This was too far.

“ _You nasty pervert_!” Vegeta bellowed, hardly daring to believe the words that were coming out of his mouth. “ _Did you really think you could come here and take what’s mine? You take some sort of sick pleasure in watching us, is that it?!? I always knew you were stupid, Kakarot, but I never took you for this much of an idiot?!? Are you a **MORON**?_” he shouted, lunging himself full-force toward Kakarot.

Kakarot, unfortunately, had other ideas. He vanished before Vegeta could land another harsh blow that was sure to send him careening into the line of centuries-old trees behind him, and immediately ducked behind his Woman for cover.

Vegeta felt a surge of pride soar in his chest as he puffed it out slightly and didn’t bother to hide the triumphant smirk that tugged his lips up.

“Please! I—I don’t wanna _fight_ you, Vegeta, I swear!” Kakarot stammered. “Look, I—I didn’t come here for _that_ , I swear, Vegeta! I—I didn’t mean to-to eavesdrop on you guys, but you were being really _loud_! I—I thought maybe an _animal_ was _wounded_ or something, so I came out here to investigate and see if I could help! Jeeze, I didn’t know that was _you_ making that noise! If I would have known you wanted to get a good look at Bulma’s _boobies_ , I would have cleared off, you gotta believe me!” Kakarot swallowed down past the lump in his throat and didn’t see how Vegeta’s face reddened in embarrassment. “I—I was looking for _Bulma_! She—she owes me a favor! Don’t start this!” he cringed, almost sounding like he was begging him. He grabbed either of Bulma’s shoulders and dragged her backward with him as he retreated, using _his_ Woman as a human shield. Vegeta ground his teeth together in anger.

What a _coward_. He wouldn’t _live_ to see tomorrow. Vegeta let out a low warning growl and launched himself forward on the balls of his heels. Kakarot didn’t even time to react or move away before Vegeta’s powerful hand wound itself around one of his arms and violently wrenched his hands off of his Woman.

“Get your _disgusting_ hands _off_ of her, Kakarot before I rip them off of your arms _myself_!” Vegeta snarled sharply, almost a harsh, grating bark.

Using just a fraction of his overwhelming Saiyan strength that he knew without a doubt overshadowed Kakarot’s own strength, pulled him away from his mate, thus freeing her from his cowardly grasp in the hopes of avoiding sparring with him.

He saw the Woman scramble away and dart behind him as fast as she could and ducked behind him for refuge.

“Vegeta, _quit_ it! Th—this isn’t _necessary_!” Bulma started to plead with the Saiyan Prince as the man stalked towards Goku, who was rapidly retreating, not wanting to fight in front of Bulma or cause more of a scene already.

“E—easy, Vegeta, I’m a friend—” Kakarot started to say, but Vegeta’s rumbling growl that erupted from the confines of his chest cut off Bardock’s son before he could so much as stammer out another awkward apology to him.

“We’re _not_ friends, Kakarot, we will _never_ be friends, so get that out of your head right now,” Vegeta snarled in a dangerously low and quiet voice now that the worst of his anger had subsided, though he suspected it was only because of the Woman’s presence.

Were she not depending on him to serve as a protector, he wouldn’t hold back at all.

“ _Leave_ before I kill you. You’re lucky the Woman’s here and I don’t want to spill blood in front of her. _Leave_. Do I need to say it a _second_ time? I really _hate_ saying things a second time.” His hands balled into fists as he shot a glowering look at Kakarot. “You have _one_ _minute_ to tell me why you’re here. Why the hell do you want to talk to Bulma?” he shouted.

Vegeta was hardly aware Bulma had practically flung herself on the balls of her feet and was tugging on Vegeta’s arm, but Goku caught his best friend’s gaze and fixed Bulma with an uncharacteristically stony look of his own, forcing his eyes to narrow as he shook his head no.

His suspicions surged in his mind as Kakarot’s face paled and drained of color as he stammered, searching for his words, which only caused a surge in his already boiling temper.

“ **KAKAROT**!” Vegeta bellowed irately, losing what little patience still remained for Raditz’s brother.

If it was at all possible, Kakarot went as white as a sheet. Bulma quirked her brows towards Goku angrily.

Goku swallowed down nervously past the lump in his throat and twiddled his fingers together, biting down on his lip.

“I um, well, er, sorta promised Sobek, the—the alien that helped me to get back home, th—that you’d um, give him a lap dance?” Goku stammered in a breathy squeak looking towards Bulma with desperate pleading in his eyes.

He didn’t look at Vegeta, though he heard his fellow Saiyan make an odd, strangled noise at the back of his throat. “ **GOKU**!” Bulma screeched, stomping her foot in frustration, her face draining of what color was left.

“ **HOW COULD YOU? YOU NASTY PERVERT, WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU? IF YOU THINK I’M GONNA GIVE SOME STRANGE ALIEN A LAP DANCE, YOU’RE DEAD WRONG!** ” Bulma screamed, seizing on tufts of her short blue hair, and pulling on her locks so hard Bulma felt the roots scream in protest.

She scrambled to pummel Kakarot with her fists, though Vegeta flung out an arm in front of her, preventing her from reaching the Saiyan.

Standing protectively in front of his mate, Vegeta blustered with rage, and he was honestly surprised his heart inside his chest hadn’t ceased beating.

If Vegeta had thought he was enraged before, that was nothing to how he felt now. He was a powder keg about to explode, and he knew it too as he felt his body start to shake and convulse. He was bloody _furious_ , and the _disgusting_ mental image stupid Kakarot had painted in his mind _didn’t_ help.

“ **YOU CONNIVING WEASEL! DON’T USE ANOTHER MAN’S MATE LIKE THAT! IF YOU WANTED TO ENTICE YOUR PERVERT FRIEND, THEN YOU SHOULD GET YOUR OWN WIFE TO DO IT! HOW COULD YOU? WHAT?!? THAT’S IT**!” he bellowed. “Woman, hold your ‘ _friend’_ down. I’m going to _blast_ this _perverted_ _sick_ _idiot_ and enjoy every second of this!” The Prince smiled in almost a sick, bloodthirsty anticipation at the lock of anger and shock on Bulma’s face as he turned to look at her, as he curled his fingers into a fist, prepared to summon his energy to kill this prick that she dared to call her friend.

She was _his_ mate, and the thought of anyone thinking they could _take_ that from him was an insult the Prince of All Saiyans was one that Prince Vegeta could not submit. 

“You’re gonna have to get in _line_ , Vegeta!” Bulma snapped, whirling on her heels as she planted her feet firmly in front of Goku, currently the only barrier between her best friend and his ultimate destruction with how his temper rapidly swelled, or at least a beatdown that would wind him up in one of the medicine tanks for an hour.

She opened her mouth to speak, though before she could accuse Goku of being a creep and a jerk and any other insult she could hurl at her friend, the confused look on Goku’s face gave her pause as he looked at Vegeta.

“ _What_? What— _what_ —what _is_ it? Why—why are you _staring_ at us like this, Goku? What the hell is _wrong_ with you?!?” Bulma snapped, her tone cold and clipped.

“What was that thing you did to Bulma?” Goku asked in his usual innocent-sounding tone, speaking to Vegeta, and looking solely at the Prince, though Bulma was _not_ about to be fooled a second time. Bulma frowned.

“What _thing_?” she exclaimed sourly, wishing Goku would just spit it out and be done with it. “What are you _talking_ about, Goku? You—you saw the whole thing!” Bulma bellowed, her own face reddening as she thought of Goku hiding behind the trees, _spying_ on Vegeta making love to her by the lakeside, listening to her moans timed with each of his rough, hard thrusts. But something that Goku just said resonated with Bulma.

Though, his query gave her pause. Goku was naïve and childlike, that was _true_ , but… But surely, he wasn’t _that_ stupid…. right?!?

Though before Bulma could ponder this further, Goku spoke up.

“No, but you were trying to _eat_ her _face_! Why did you put your lips against hers? What _was_ that?!?” Goku breathed, sounding awestruck, wide-eyed as he took in the sight of Vegeta’s red face, though now the Saiyan Prince looked truly shocked and less outrage, his mouth open in shock.

Prince Vegeta staggered backward, his face flushed high with color, his cheeks bright rosy pink, his blush creeping up his cheeks and all the way to his ears, his arm shot out to grope for something to hold onto, which in this case happened to be the trunk of the old pine tree behind him.

“Y—you’re _shitting_ me, you’ve really never _kissed_ someone?!? B—but you’re _married_! You have a half-Saiyan _child_ with that Earth woman, Kakarot! You can’t stand there and tell me that you’ve never kissed your _wife_?!? Not _once_?” the Prince growled angrily, narrowing his dark eyes, lifting his gaze to meet Goku’s. Kakarot merely shrugged his shoulders and shook his head, looking towards Bulma for confirmation, who was looking just as lost and confused as Vegeta, which was a small comfort, though admittedly better composed. “ _You lie_!” he growled, seething in anger, thinking Kakarot was just asking this of him to make a _fool_ of him.

Bulma frowned at Vegeta’s accusation, glancing towards Goku, and studying the man’s confused look. Though Bulma knew Goku better than Vegeta and had more or less been expecting such a question from him. Vegeta let out a growl of agitation from the back of his throat as he looked at the Woman’s calm expression.

Goku pressed on, wanting an answer. “But what does that have to do with _kissing_? Is this like a Saiyan tradition that I don’t know about, you guys?!?”

Vegeta let out a growl of frustration as he slumped against the trunk of the tree he was resting behind for support, turning his head away and clamped a hand over his mouth, his cheeks scorching with a fiery heat as his blush intensified. “Y—you’ve _got_ to be _fucking_ _kidding_ me, Kakarot, are you _serious_ right now?!? You’ve _never_ kissed your _wife_?” he snarled under his breath in a right foul mood.

“No.” Kakarot’s voice and the tone were sincere. He was telling the truth.

Vegeta swiveled his gaze back to look towards Bulma, who looked like she was positively seething, though less so more than he was. She looked like she was pondering something, there was a faraway glint in her blue eyes that Vegeta wasn’t so sure that he liked the look of. His face flushed even more and by this stage, he was honestly surprised he hadn’t managed to pop a vein in his neck or a blood vessel or something.

“Kakarot, you’re such an _idiot_. A half-witted _moron_ with a pea for a brain! You must only have two working brain cells in that thick-headed skull of yours! A disgrace to our race! Woman, do not fucking _tell_ me you’re actually thinking of _considering_ his offer!” He let out a growl as he seethed through his teeth.

“No.” Bulma sounded more exhausted than angry.

Vegeta would never dare admit it to anyone save for himself, though there was a small part of him that hoped he hadn’t overdone it, that he’d not pushed her body to its limits by taking her as his mate. He was _stronger_ than her. What if he had hurt her despite his promise not to?

“That explains a lot _about_ you, Goku,” Bulma sighed, turning away and pinching at the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger, not looking at the Prince.

“Tch,” Vegeta scoffed, rolling his eyes, huffing in indignation, and folding his arms across his chest, not so much as sparing Kakarot a second glance, wishing to look upon the lovelier sight of his newly-marked mate, not bothering to reveal to Kakarot she was the first woman he had ever kissed. He was not about to reveal that to anyone, and instead, forced his gaze to look at Bulma Briefs. Truly a beauty, a goddess worthy of the Prince of All Saiyans.

Then it hit him as he looked at her. He’d almost forgotten his silent vow.

He was going to have to shove aside his pride and ask her father for his permission to marry his daughter tomorrow. _Goddamn_. That was _not_ a conversation he wanted to have. By rights, as a Prince, he shouldn’t have to ask. He should have just taken her and that was that, screw the customs of this planet.

Though considering Father was more or less making him abide by their stupid Earth customs considering he and the rest of his people intended to settle on this new planet, he was going to have to humor Father on this one. He _hated_ it. For a brief moment, he wondered if Kakarot had asked his mate’s father for his permission. His curiosity was piqued, and the question was out of his mouth before he could stop himself from asking the query.

“Kakarot,” he growled, hating the conversation he was about to have with this moron, this _creep_ who they had more or less caught _spying_ on them, opening his mouth to speak further, though the sound of rustling branches from somewhere to the Woman’s immediate left interrupted Vegeta from whatever he had been about to say next.

He felt his body instinctively stiffen as he rose to his feet and assumed a defensive stance, ready to kill the next thing that dared to make a pass at his Woman or mock him just as Kakarot had. Kakarot, the _rat_ , should consider himself fortunate that Bulma was here, or he’d be _dead_.

Prince Vegeta was hardly aware he’d drawn in a breath and held it, exhaling only when Tarble’s tiny form emerged from behind a bush. His younger brother was looked flushed and pink in the cheeks, though his grim expression brightened for a fraction of a second as he looked towards Vegeta and inclined his head in respect.

“Brother,” Vegeta growled, not looking at Tarble. “Tarble, what are you _doing_ here?” he snarled angrily.

If Tarble was at all intimidated by his big brother, the little Saiyan Prince hid it well, his face a mask of apathy as his slight frown lingered on Prince Vegeta for a moment, before turning his gaze and looking toward Bulma, sinking into a bow. Almost as quickly as his smile towards Vegeta’s mate had formed, it slid off his face anxiously, his facial expression turning quite grim. “F—forgive me, big brother, b—but ah, Lord Frieza is here. He’d like a word.”

Goku perked up instantly at the mention of Frieza, a shadow flitting across his chiseled features, and his eyes darkened and a muscle in his jaw twitched. “ _Frieza_?” he growled, balling his hands into fists by his sides, his previous sunny if not a little flamboyant nature dissipated.

Tarble nodded, looking surprised at the look of anger on his fellow Saiyan’s face, but didn’t elaborate. Nor did Vegeta give Tarble the opportunity to.

Vegeta scoffed and rolled his eyes, stepping away from the tree trunk, feeling grateful some strength had returned to his legs and he no longer was shaking at all.

“Of course, he does, Table, when _doesn’t_ Frieza want a word with the Prince?” Vegeta spat angrily, his tongue feeling like clay in his mouth as he bolted to his feet and cast Bulma one last suspicious and slightly longing look.

He didn’t feel right about leaving his mate in the company of a _pervert_ like Kakarot, but there was no choice.

Tarble, for his part, all but ignored Vegeta’s posturing. His entire focus was on Bulma. He could see Vegeta had marked her. There were two incisor-shaped markings, just pinpricks to the naked human eye, but for Saiyans, Vegeta might as well have painted an **X** on her.

Her cheeks were flushed bright pink. It didn’t take a scholar or a scientist beside him, though the girl was one, for Tarble to realize his big brother had mated with Bulma. Tarble _almost_ smiled at this, but by a miracle of the gods, managed to refrain himself.

The last thing Vegeta needed right now in his already agitated state was others making comments on the state of the affairs of his love life.

Vegeta took a half step towards the woodland path that he’d followed the Woman behind from, though before Vegeta could so much as take another step forward to head back to the grounds and see what Frieza wanted, Tarble’s tail shot out and curled around Vegeta’s arm, stopping him.

“Let _go_ of me, Tarble!” Vegeta growled, curling his fingers around Tarble’s tail, and shrugging it off his arm. “What’s _wrong_ with you?” Vegeta snarled. “What’s wrong?”

Tarble immediately shirked away and took a step back so he was standing almost shoulder-to-shoulder with Kakarot, suddenly looking nervous and lax altogether as his posture tensed. He bit down on his bottom lip in agitation.

“N—not _you_ , Geta,” he stammered, his face flushing even deeper as he heard Vegeta let out a frustrated growl as Tarble used his nickname for his older brother. He raised a shaking hand towards his mate and pointed at Bulma. “H— _her_ ,” he stammered in a small and meek voice. “Lord Frieza wants to speak to the Woman _alone_ , Vegeta.”

“ **WHAT**?!? **NO**! He’s even more _deranged_ than I thought. Tarble, that’s _not_ happening,” Vegeta immediately retorted, moving to storm his way back up to the estate, hellbent on confronting Frieza over the audacity of his actions, though he caught the flash of blue out of the corner of his eyes. “ _No_ _way_ ,” Vegeta shouted, balling his hands into fists by his side. “Frieza’s an unstable _cretin_ and dangerous, a _worm_ , he’d rip out that tongue of yours before you’d get your first good insult out,” he growled, turning his wrath on Bulma as she stepped forward, looking hesitant, though she quickly molded her pretty features into a look of hardened indifference, her facial muscles twitching in irritation. 

She turned to Vegeta and fixed him with a cold look and Vegeta wanted to protest, but he fell silent, any and all argument he’d had prepared fled him at her stare. “He’s _my_ problem, Woman, not _yours_!” Vegeta exclaimed roughly as Bulma turned on her heels to face him, her hand coming to stop by Vegeta’s waist before drifting down to one of his hands. He’d not pulled his gloves back on yet, and Vegeta let out a hiss as he _felt_ it.

It was invisible to all except Saiyans. Bulma couldn’t see it, but Vegeta could, and he knew the others could too.

For a brief moment that felt like time had suspended itself, as the pads of her fingertips grazed against his, an electrical surge shot through Vegeta’s fingers and shot up his arm and down his spine to his toes like a bolt of lightning. A tiny golden thread connected the two of them.

It was brief, faint, lasting less than a millisecond, but it was more than enough for Vegeta to realize what it was. His pulse throbbed and his heart rate quickened, his breaths caught in his throat as he stared at their hands in awe.

This tiny golden thread connected the two of them for life, as bond mates, or as the humans liked to call it, soul mates. Vegeta had always scoffed at such a concept, calling it stupid and thinking it something he would never have, but he realized, as a pit formed in his belly, he was _wrong_.

The Woman was now his mate for life. He wondered if Bulma had felt the same thing too, just now, despite not being able to see this invisible thread that connected their hands together as she gave it a squeeze. He tried to speak, to brush it off as nothing as he shrugged his hand out of her grasp roughly, as though the very touch had burned him, and in a way, he knew it had. But when he opened his mouth, all that came out were a bunch of strangled attempts at speech.

Nothing came to him. The relaxed yet concerned look on the Woman’s paling face as her thin brows came together as she stared at Vegeta’s perplexed, red expression told Vegeta Bulma hadn’t felt it yet, but he supposed that was okay. He was just secretly pleased and prideful that he’d been able to discover it for himself, to know what it was like. It was all making sense to him now, what was happening, though he dared not admit it to anyone else.

He’d rather die before he’d ever admitted that he was growing affectionate towards his mate, maybe even _loving_ her. He sneered and looked down his nose at the Woman.

Bulma stopped immediately, looking up towards Vegeta, her eyes briefly shifting to his hand that he now clutched in his other hand and cradled it close to his chest.

“He came here to see _me_ , I think, Vegeta,” Bulma sighed, sounding like she already knew the answer and was sure. “If I’m going to take over for that other scientist that died on his team, it’s only natural he’d want to meet me before letting just some random Earthling work on him. He’s not _stupid_. I’ll handle him. _You_ stay here with Goku.”

Vegeta stammered and spluttered out something undignified, though the only thing he could manage was, “ _What_?!? You’re **NOT** leaving me behind with this _pervert_! Don’t do anything _stupid,_ Woman. Watch your _mouth_.”

Bulma looked up, her eyes filled with astonishment as her lips parted. She looked a little hurt by his choice of words. Vegeta inwardly winced. He supposed he ought to have been a little softer with his words, but words were never his forte, not like Father’s or his little brother, Tarble.

He squeezed his eyes shut, silently willing the words he wished to express that Bulma would hear it somehow.

 _Be careful. Don’t do anything fucking stupid to get yourself killed, Woman,_ Vegeta warned in their impossible telepathy, his words sounding clumsy and blunt as he felt Tarble nudge on his left, and Kakarot on his right side.

His black hair blew slightly in the wind as the faint breeze blew the familiar scent of her smell to his flaring nostrils and he inhaled selfishly as she was his drug.

Bulma’s blue eyes misted slightly and clouded over as she turned away before looking up slowly with wide eyes.

Vegeta almost smirked but didn’t.

She’d _heard_ him. He could sense her hesitations as she pondered something to say back, as well as to accept that had just really happened. She settled for offering the Saiyan Prince a warm smile before nodding slightly. _I will_. Her gaze softened, though it hardened when she looked towards Goku again.

“I won’t be long, guys. Not more than an hour, probably. Just…wait here and _don’t_ move,” Bulma growled.

“ _What_?” Goku whined, sticking out his lip in a slight pout, though he was looking uncharacteristically anger as the flickering of something dark in his eyes. “If he _hurts_ you—” he started to say, but Vegeta cut Goku off.

“Then _I_ will be the one to dispose of Frieza, _Kakarot_ ,” he growled, feeling a surge of anger in his chest as he huffed, folding his arms across his chest, glowering. He hated this more than he dared to ever admit. It was a dangerous and precarious position his mate was willingly choosing to put herself in without _him_ present.

“Don’t kill each other, you two,” Bulma murmured sarcastically, not bothering to look over her shoulder, or she would have seen Vegeta’s face pale in shock and rage. She would have taken a step forward, but Goku darted forward and put a strong hand on Bulma’s shoulder.

“B—but don’t you know how _damage_ we could do to each other in an hour?” he groaned, rolling his eyes as he heard Vegeta scoff behind him, turning away from Goku.

Bulma snorted through her nose and nodded. “Uh-huh. It’s kind of a revolting thought, actually, Goku…”

“Really?” Goku’s eyebrows raised in alarm. “What’s _revolting_ mean? Does that mean you want us to come with you?”

Bulma blinked owlishly at Goku.

“Oh, my _God_ ,” she groaned, shirking out of Goku’s grasp and stalking off. “Get your hands off me, man,” she shouted, huffing in anger, and looking away, marching back towards the castle grounds, towards Lord Frieza’s ship in the not-so-far-off distance, not noticing Vegeta’s gaze following her backside.

He grunted in frustration, throttling his urge to kill Kakarot where he stood next to him as though they were friends. They weren’t _friends_.

After what Kakarot had done, they would _never_ be bosom friends. Far from it. No way.

“You _like_ her… Vegeta, don’t try to deny it. She’s a pretty good motivator for you, isn’t she? So, when’s the wedding?” Kakarot’s simpering child-like voice reached Vegeta’s eardrums pounding with blood as he seethed.

Bulma smiled to herself as Vegeta’s shouts rang after her, drifting after her, caught on the autumnal breeze that gusted through the fiery red and orange maple leaves.

“ **SHUT UP, KAKAROT, YOU IDIOT**!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Goku, you dodged a bullet with that one... Coming up, Bulma has a conversation with Frieza, and Goku and Vegeta have a conversation about Earth marriage customs XD


	11. Chapter 11

**11**

**VEGETA** poked one eyelid open, the sound of Kakarot’s restless pacing interrupting his concentration as he dipped into the Woman’s mind, able to keep an eye on her from a distance, even like this, and watched as Kakarot stood almost stoically still, for a moment, he wondered if Bardock’s son had stopped breathing as he worked to conceal his power levels at Vegeta’s demand.

He was still silently seething Kakarot had refused to fight him and took the cowardly approach of hiding behind the Woman. The edges of his lips twisted upward in a sneer, and he rolled his eyes, a muscle in his jaw twitching.

“Do we really got to wait around an hour?” Kakarot whined, sticking out his lip in a slight pout.

“It’s just _time_ , Kakarot. Not like it _means_ anything,” Vegeta snapped, his temper surging. “ _Don’t_ ,” he barked in a rough and hoarse voice. “I know that look, Kakarot. What you’re thinking of doing. You do this, you’re only proving you’re an even bigger _idiot_ than I fucking _thought_ and a _moron_. You go in there now, you’ll ruin it and get the Woman killed,” he snarled angrily, though his anger was now more directed towards Frieza, and the Woman’s stubbornness and naivety that Frieza wouldn’t lay a finger on her. “This is _bigger_ than you, Kakarot. I don’t give a _goddamn_ if you’re a Super Saiyan. You have no _idea_ what you’d be going up against. You’re out of your league, even now.”

He huffed in frustration and folded his arms across his chest.

 _Lies_ , his conscience hissed in the darkest corners of his mind. _Fucking lies and you know it. You hate that HE became a Legendary Super Saiyan before YOU! You’re supposed to SURPASS Kakarot in every way, not ADVISE him on what to do about Frieza._ He grunted in frustration and continued his restless pacing.

Back and forth he went, back and forth in a repeated, agitated motion as he looked towards the faint outline of Lord Frieza’s ship. 

Kakarot made an odd little strangled noise at the back of his throat, though it wasn’t one of fear.

“I don’t understand, you want to follow Bulma just as much as _I_ do, Vegeta, I see it in your eyes, so don’t try to worm your way out of it, but why are we staying _back_? Frieza is _dangerous_ , this is our shot. He’ll _kill_ Bulma! We could take him _out_ for good, and be done with Frieza _forever_ , why the hell are we just standing around and letting Bulma _do_ this?!? She’ll get herself _killed_ , Vegeta! I don’t _understand_ , so can you explain it to me?” Kakarot said in a slow and somber voice, a far cry from how infuriatingly chipper the Saiyan warrior usually was.

Vegeta scowled and knitted his brows together in a frown, making a scoffing noise as he looked at him.

“Tch. Do you really think _empty_ _words_ from a _loser_ mean _anything_ to me? I don’t owe you _anything_ , Kakarot!” Vegeta shouted, still fuming beyond belief at what Kakarot had walked in on. “You couldn’t even finish off Frieza with your new _powers_! You should have fucking _killed_ him when you had the chance but you’re always too goddamn naïve and _soft_ on people, _monsters_ like Frieza who don’t deserve a shred of mercy!” Vegeta shouted, a note of bitterness seeping its way unbidden to the surface of his voice, his surge of anger and jealousy soaring through his veins.

He swallowed down hard past the lump in his throat and continued.

“It’s not that _simple_ , Kakarot. It’s not _just_ Frieza we have to worry about, there are _others_ over Lord Frieza,” Vegeta growled, though he was unable to repress the shudder that clawed its way up and down his back at just the mention of Lord Beerus in his mind, that demon, that God of Death, though he had to remind himself Kakarot didn’t know a damn thing about Lord Beerus and how Frieza was under Lord Beerus.

“ _Really_?”

Vegeta almost rolled his eyes at the note of intrigue and excitement in Kakarot’s voice.

“There’s someone _higher_ than Frieza? Who is it?!?”

 _Oh, God, no_ … Vegeta stifled a low groan and rolled his eyes as he swiveled his head to look at Kakarot.

“It’s not any of your _concern_ , Kakarot!” he shouted, his temper swelling until that fire-seed of hot anger that had started in the pit of his stomach surfaced into his chest and had tightened it, constricting his passageways until he felt quite dizzy.

“But I still don’t _get_ it. Why have you and your dad and what’s left of our people waited so long to _do_ anything about this? Why have you spent so long under his servitude? Unless you aren’t _strong_ enough?” Kakarot asked in an innocent, soft tone.

Letting out a shout of frustration, Vegeta slammed his hand down on the nearest thing he could reach, which happened to be the tree beside him. Vegeta’s breath hitched and caught in his throat as he spluttered and stammered to think of a retort, curling his hands into a fist and raking them down his leg hard enough to pierce the fabric. It wasn’t often fucking _Kakarot_ reduced him to a mess like this, of all people, though he was already on edge as it was from a moment ago. He was half tempted to blow up the whole fucking palace he’d found once he got his Woman out of there.

Not that it was going to do any good against Frieza, but he didn’t want that worm anywhere _near_ his Woman. The Saiyan Prince almost didn’t answer Kakarot, though the words tumbled out of him before he could stop himself from being honest with Bardock’s bastard son who was an even bigger moron than Vegeta was initially led to believe it.

“If we do it _this_ way, we _might_ have a shot. Stupid and suicidal as it is, it was _her_ idea, not mine,” Vegeta snarled, anger surging in his veins at the thought of his marked mate on Frieza’s ship. Without him. He shivered but refused to let Kakarot see it. “The rest of our people could be saved from the perils of doom, and maybe Frieza _won’t_ obliterate this planet. There aren’t many left. Like it or not, we’re _homeless_ and need a new planet. This one seems satisfactory, and I’d rather _not_ see our new home destroyed when we only just got here. I wouldn’t expect you to know a _goddamn_ thing about _subtlety_ and treating matters with any ounce of discreetness, Kakarot, or military tactics,” Vegeta growled, rolling his eyes at the look of intrigue in Kakarot’s eyes.

He gnashed his teeth together angrily and whiplashed his head sharply up to regard Kakarot, who’d turned his gaze back towards Frieza’s ship in the distance, barely visible through the low rolling mist that had started to swoop in.

“You really think _Bulma_ has a shot?” Kakarot raised an eyebrow, his lips pursed in a thin line, only making Vegeta erupt and undulate in sick laughter.

“Don’t fucking _flatter_ your friend,” the older Saiyan grinned. “I wasn’t _talking_ about the Woman. I was talking about _me_. I’m going to be the one to ultimately defeat Frieza, Kakarot, not you. I only agreed to allow the Woman to participate to get Father off my _back_ ,” Prince Vegeta balked and basked at the way Kakarot’s face looked away in confusion he was pulling off of him. Heat gathered quickly on his nape, though he was stopped from responding when Kakarot slowly swiveled his gaze to look at Vegeta.

“You want your dad’s spot on the throne, don’t you, Vegeta? You really think _you_ can do it? Take over for him, I mean, and become the King?”

Vegeta couldn’t be sure, but it sounded like Kakarot was _almost_ laughing at him, mocking him. He seethed and gritted his teeth together in ire. “Of _course_ , I do, Kakarot, everyone wants the throne, you _fool_. Everyone wants to rule the world.”

“But your only voucher is the pure Saiyan blood that runs in your veins, and who you are,” Kakarot pointed out. “That doesn’t mean you’ll actually be _good_ at it,” Kakarot snapped, not noticing, or ignoring how red Vegeta’s face turned in anger. “But what are you gonna do about Frieza if he’s still this much a threat and you won’t let me help you if something happens to your dad or Bulma? What if he destroys this planet too, huh? Kills everyone? Our family, our friends. Well, _mine_ , since _you_ don’t _have_ any _friends_.” Now, Kakarot really _did_ sound angry, and he was looking at Vegeta admonishingly. “Doesn’t this whole ‘taking over for your dad’ thing sound kind of _suspicious_? You think I’m _stupid_ , but I’m _not_. I overheard your dad talking on a communicator on the walk over here to someone on another planet. Your throne is a _trap_ ,” Kakarot snapped. Color drained from Vegeta’s face despite the best effort he could manage to muster to mask it. “Who do you think your dad would put on the throne, in the light where all these blood-thirsty monsters who want revenge on you for something or other lurks in the darkness?” Kakarot was all but glaring at Vegeta in a way that left Vegeta stunned. “If it’s not Frieza after us, it’s someone _else_. And…”

Kakarot paused, not sure how much else he could reveal, though the murderous look in Vegeta’s eyes was telling enough. He continued.

“He says you’re losing your _mind_ , Vegeta, and the only hope for you is to marry Bulma. He said her only fault was that she was born _human_. You ask me, I think Bulma has a pretty good shot at doing this, but I don’t _like_ it. Tarble told me about Bulma's plan to put a _bomb_ in Frieza’s head when he goes under for an upgrade, but… _why_?” he questioned, now sounding curious. “You would trust her with something like this? It’s _reckless_! Why not just let _me_ take care of Frieza?”

“You really think I’d _let_ you do that?” Vegeta shouted, his annoyance reaching entirely new levels with Bardock’s son. “No way! _I’m_ going to take care of Frieza my _own_ way. I don’t like the Woman wants to help, but if I _don’t_ , I’d never hear the _end_ of it,” he snarled, not wanting his mate to nag him for it. “This is our best shot at doing it with surprisingly minimal bloodshed on this new planet. I don’t give a _damn_ what you do, Kakarot, but stay the hell _out_ of my way and the Woman’s too. Make no mistake, _I_ intend to finish Frieza off in some remote far-flung corner of this decrepit planet, but if we’re going to live here from now on, think what you like of me, but I’d rather not have all those people _die_ , pathetic weaklings though they are. I have enough red on my ledger, Kakarot,” he snarled through his gritted teeth. “It’s clear you think of me as a savage brute, and that’s true, but I’m not _totally_ heartless, Kakarot. I _know_ what I am, but it’s a messy business, war. _I_ will be the one to eliminate Frieza, Kakarot, and I will do it without any help from _you_ , bastard.”

“What if Frieza tries something?” Kakarot prodded, only succeeding in worsening Vegeta’s pounding headache that threatened to crack his skull. “What if he kills your dad or your brother? Or…” _Bulma_ , is what he almost said, but didn’t.

“He could do it over and over again and I wouldn’t care about my father. I won’t mourn him,” he spat, rising to his feet. Goku felt a cold chill crawl under his skin at hearing his words, though he noticed Vegeta hadn’t made any mention of Bulma or his little brother, which suggested to Goku that Vegeta did care, even if he couldn’t admit it to himself. Goku wasn’t sure how he knew, but it wasn’t a joke. The apathy from the Saiyan Prince seeped and settled bitterly in the pit of his growling stomach, reminding Goku he’d not eaten in hours.

Goku rose to his feet, growing tired of this conversation, a look of determination and resolve on his hardened features.

As much as this went against his nature not to confront Frieza, it took all of his willpower to stand back and let Bulma do this on her own, he could respect and see Vegeta’s father had a point. The King of Saiyans might be a brute in his own right, but he wasn’t completely ruthless.

The fact remained that Prince Vegeta’s father wanted to try a more subtle approach to deal with Frieza that would help aid in drastically weakening the lizard spoke volumes, at least in Goku’s mind. Still, Goku turned away, only pausing to look back over his shoulder. His expression remained calm and neutral.

“I hope that one day, Vegeta, you find love in a kid if you and Bulma ever have children that you truly own together. You look into their eyes and see none of the hatred and contempt you hold for your dad. I hope your children remember you as a hero, even in your…dark past, that your kids love you. I hope they _love_ you, and you’ll love them as much as life…before it’s taken away from you….”

Vegeta could hear himself let out a growl of frustration, watching Kakarot’s shadow disappear as he left him alone in his usual loneliness, speechless.

It was only when Kakarot had completely walked away from him and had disappeared from his line of sight completely, that Vegeta realized it had completely slipped his mind to ask the insufferable git about the stupid Earth custom of asking the Woman’s father for his permission.

Letting out a growl of frustration, he raked his fingers through his wild jet black hair and sighed.

 _Call for me_ , he thought, keeping his eyes shut. _Call me if you’re in trouble. What’s happening?_ he repeated, almost beseeching the Woman, thinking it was driving him mad he couldn’t hear her.

She was somehow keeping her mind closed. He had no way to know what was going on from this distance. Throttling his urge to roar like an enraged dragon, Vegeta rose to his feet, the wind tousling his hair and followed her scent, the only thing he had left of the Woman before she had left.

And gods be damned if Frieza touched her…if that happened, he didn’t care how it happened, but he would kill him. _Without_ Kakarot’s assistance…

He would _kill_ him.

* * *

 _Breathe_ , she commanded herself, casting one last nervous glance to her left out of the corner of her eye at Tarble, who had walked her back, whose face was the perfect picture of impassive indifference, though a muscle in his jaw twitched.

 _Breathe_ , Bulma thought for a second time, repeating her single thought like a mantra, closing her eyes shut.

He would see that in her eyes and on her face if she could not maintain control of her emotions. Her left hand trembled and her eyes began to water as she gingerly reached for the doorknob. _He_ was behind there, and his goons and this situation were going to be anything _but_ good.

Her body felt hot and sweat started trickling down Bulma’s neck. Her fingers curled into a fist, her nails digging into the skin of her palm. Bulma gripped it tightly and twisted it. With every move she made, she became more and more terrified.

Her breaths quickened and caught in her throat as she heard the creaking of the rusty door in its hinges, and the door slowly swung open to reveal Lord Frieza and a taller-looking alien of a similar build and species, Bulma guessed this one was a relative of his. His father, or maybe an uncle or a brother, their backs turned towards her, though both expecting her. The white lizard-like alien slowly swiveled his head and inclined it in acknowledgment of Bulma’s presence as she stepped into the room. There _he_ was, at the other end of the room. Waiting for her and eying her like a lion would eye its prey. Lord Frieza himself.

Her future was waiting for her on the other side of this room, and Bulma nervously exhaled a shaking breath. She rolled her neck to crack it and nervously twisted her fingers together as she stepped forward to greet Prince Vegeta and Goku’s sworn enemy. Lord Frieza was waiting for her.

* * *

He almost did not recognize his own reflection in the mirror. Lord Frieza stiffened and turned away, not wanting to look at his warped appearance any longer than necessary, and his face, hard from his pale skin to his slit-like nose, what little was left of it, met Vegeta’s new mate with a critical interest. He had heard stories of this one, how smart she was. But stories, of course, were gullible, and Lord Frieza was not about to ingest such stupid lies.

He cocked his head to the side as the girl approached, hearing a tense exhale emanate beside him. King Cold stifled a growl of frustration and angled his head. Only to face that of his son, whose head was bowed, though he could practically feel the animosity emanating off of his song for this earthling woman in waves, and if the air in the room would have been color, the air itself would have been scarlet, of this the King was certain.

Frieza was most unhappy of this arrangement, that a _woman_ was taking over as the head of his science division, King Cold could sense it.

As Frieza clasped his pale, gangling fingers together and folded him in front of his middle, he knew he possessed neither the grace nor propensity to smile at his newest recruit and the other little Saiyan brat of King Vegeta’s, a boy called Tarble, who had escorted her here.

His eyes remained somber and quite dull as they searched the female, and Frieza watched as Bulma Briefs shirked away, lowering her gaze towards the hardwood floor beneath her shoes. Lord Frieza felt his gaze drawn to the young woman. No older than thirty or thirty-one at best, perhaps, she was, even the Dark Lord had to confess it, a pretty little slip of a thing. Pale, her skin cut from the finest pearls. Pretty blue hair cut short.

He almost sniffed in disapproval at this but fought it back. Lord Frieza suspected, though he had a feeling he would know the truth for himself in a mere matter of moments, that the rejection of the stupid Saiyan _monkey’s_ feelings for her had spurned her to abandon Prince Vegeta despite Vegeta’s demands the woman marry him. Vegeta pretended to be high and mighty, but the Saiyan had sad black eyes. He wasn’t _truly_ mean.

Oh, he would allow their union to take place and even grant them the honor of attending their ceremony, though following their little marriage, the Woman was going to be his. He hoped that by allowing the induction of an incredibly smart human female into his ranks, that his rule over this planet would become smoother and firmer solidified as a result when society would begin to see well-educated and more than competent people like this one come to their senses.

That there was no escaping their fate. Their planet was now conquered, and they could not hide. Lord Frieza was not aware of the strong lingering desire for this planet to remain free. He had yet to ferret them out in his ranks. Lord Frieza let out a haggard-sounding sigh and decided to welcome them instead of initially questioning the girl on her arrival. There would be time enough for that, in due time, this he knew.

"Girl," he went on in a smooth, languid tone. "Welcome, I trust that you managed to find your way well enough," he murmured, speaking more to his newest recruit to his team than to Prince Tarble, gesturing his arms towards the dimly lit room.

Frieza was quick to recognize that his voice was rather crude, but the alien paid it no mind.

He watched as the pretty blue-haired beauty of Vegeta’s practically shied away from him in hesitation and trepidation, nervously fidgeting with them, and playing with her pinkish tipped fingers to keep them warm, and he watched stoically, his father next to his side, as the young woman lifted her chin and regarded the pair of them with a look he could only perceive as hostile. Venom in those pale blue orbs that rivaled the blue skies. It took Frieza a half-second to realize the pathetic Earth woman was labeling him, though he supposed he could not fault her for that at all.

Why wouldn't she? She was, after all, a slave, a worthless servant to a pathetic Saiyan monkey, risking her life by joining his science division and replacing his lead scientist. By crossing that threshold and betraying her own kind, the girl could never go back, though he knew that in his own time, the girl would prove her loyalty, or she would die.

Though it did not stop Frieza from thinking the girl would suddenly snap, judging by the look of hatred in those brilliant blue eyes of hers she gave him. And then, as if by some magic force, as her nervous gaze flitted from his inquisitive narrowed eyes to his father’s cold, impassive stare, her face changed, the edges of her lips crinkling upwards in a dimpled smile and she flashed a white smile.

The Woman inclined her head.

"Uh, Lord Frieza, sir. It is an…honor to finally meet you. I hope that my _services_ will prove most valuable and that I am given a chance to prove my worth to your cause. If you would have me," she murmured in what she hoped was a convincing enough tone that disguised her revulsion, well aware she was lying through her teeth, hoping the freak wouldn’t see it in her eyes.

An old-fashioned gesture, and not necessarily needed, though Lord Frieza appreciated the display of proper edict, and it lifted his sour mood, and Lord Frieza felt himself loosen his curled fist around the handle of his wine glass.

"May I?" His voice was smoother than silk, and languid, and did not make another move for the girl’s neck until Bulma blinked, looking surprised, but saw no other choice, so she nodded her head.

Lord Frieza let his fingers grave over the white flesh of her throat, and the look Father was shooting him suggested even he was surprised at the surprising gentleness of the gesture. Frieza sneered and almost laughed at her. There it was like he thought.

Vegeta’s teeth markings, little more than two pinpricks along with a few spots of dried blood.

He allowed the pad of his bone-white fingertip of his index finger to just barely graze over the mark, and he was rewarded for his efforts when he felt the scientist shy away in hesitation, a hiss of pain escaping her lips. Lord Frieza swore he heard her whimper.

"It will hurt for a time. Saiyans are savage _beasts_ , but I don’t think you need _me_ to tell you that as your new god and supreme overlord, Woman," he said in a voice that sounded bored, and Lord Frieza was well aware of this fact, as he lowered his hand and Bulma gingerly took her left arm and rubbed it against the mark on her neck.

“Vegeta’s no savage, though he likes to _pretend_ he’s one.” She rolled her eyes. “But you? You on the other hand, buddy, are a real piece of work. Vegeta’s not a brute. Not like _you_ are,” Bulma snapped, her temper swelling to the surface, her face paling and her eyes widening as she took in the sight of the white and purple and pink alien, truly a sight. She gritted her teeth and balled her shaking hands into fists at her side. “I only agreed to come and work for you and do your stupid upgrades after Goku sliced your ass in half because I’d really like to not die this year,” she growled angrily. “And since I have no other choice here, this is all I’ve got. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to let you stand here and insult my future husband, _jerk_. And you’re not a god. You’re like, the farthest thing from that. You’re nothing but a _worm_ , a snake in the light, you miserable horrible earwig little _snitch_. You better start treating me with some semblance of respect and watch what you say around me if you want my help. I don’t know if you know this, buddy, but Goku’s _alive_ , and if you put even so much as a finger on me and I tell him and Vegeta about it, your ass is _grass_ , and those two are the _lawnmower_ , you _freak_!”

Frieza felt certain he had misheard her. He heard himself let out a snort of amusement and slammed his fist into the wall behind her head, dangerously close to her ear, smirking as the pretty blue-haired woman flinched, squeezing her eyes shut. Frieza stood at a standstill, as did his dad.

He was more or less completely flabbergasted by the girl’s response. He felt his smug grin slide off his face replaced with a flustered look of disgust.

And as Vegeta’s mate opened her eyes and stared defiantly back, daring to not revert her gaze, he saw just a hint of the same insufferable smugness he’d always hated to see in Vegeta’s eyes. He sneered. There was a _reason_ he’d chosen this one as his mate. Both feisty and both had horrible tongues.

She had taken it too far. This, he couldn’t let it slide. At all. Frieza’s tail shot out and wound around her middle, squeezing as a python would.

“You might think this is _over_ , girl, that you’ve won just because you’re marrying Vegeta, and have his _protection_ ,” he snarled, pulling Bulma close so she was practically splayed against his chest. “But you’re _wrong_ in that regard. My little fun’s only just _beginning_. You’re lucky that you’re one of the smartest scientists on this planet and I happen to _need_ your… _services_ ,” he growled through gritted teeth. “Consider that your _only_ reason that I’m letting you stay _alive_ for now, but do one more thing to piss me off, and I’ll do Vegeta the courtesy of removing his pretty little bride’s head from her body before that stupid monkey can even blink an eyelid.”

As if to emphasize his point, his tail curled around her middle hard enough to crack her ribs. The pain was like a knife being twisted in her gut. It shot up fast, erasing every thought from her head and paralyzing her body, and she would have fallen if Frieza hadn’t lowered his tail and set her on the ground, so she was more or less kneeling on her knees in front of him, much in the same manner she had been forced to when Vegeta had taken her, then.

“Consider this my one and only warning to you, wench, the _next_ time you decide to speak against me like that,” Frieza snorted, snatching his wine glass off the table, and picking it up, swirling the liquid in his cup before tilting his head back and draining it, cringing as the liquid sloshed down his throat.

He turned away from Bulma still kneeling on the floor, her face almost blue from the lack of oxygen that Frieza had almost deprived Bulma of.

“I like you, so I think I’ll keep you around. You seem sweet but a _psycho_. This is why you and that brainless wretch of a monkey are perfect for one another. It might make things on my ship a little more _interesting_ in the days to come. Oh, and do tell your Prince for me _congratulations_. I look _forward_ to attending his wedding in a few days. Oh. I almost _forgot_ ,” he added in a mocking lilt, cocking his head to the side. “Tell Prince Vegeta that I expect him to report to Yardrat two days following your little _union_ , so enjoy the time together while you still have it.”

He turned and looked back over his shoulder as he and King Cold headed towards the door, signaling their conversation was done, and barely spared King Vegeta’s youngest brat, Tarble, a second glance, as the little Saiyan Prince rushed forward, keeping his head lowered and knelt into a crouch by her side, missing the venomous look Tarble shot Frieza and King Cold.

The two did not bother to look behind them as they left Tarble and Bulma alone on the floor. “ _Bulma_!” squeaked Tarble in a breathless sounding voice, as though he’d run away the way down the hallway to get to her side, sounding utterly relieved, not minding the grit and dirt that dug into his knees as he awkwardly patted Bulma on her knees. “A—are you _hurt_? D-did he…?” he stammered, noticing how Bulma’s left hand favored her left side as her lungs burned for the biting cold air around them. She turned her head to the side to cough as air slowly flooded its way back to her lungs.

“No,” Bulma coughed, scooting backward until she kept her back slumped against the stone wall of whatever room she had met Frieza in. “H—he _didn’t_ …” She shot a venomous look toward the door. Bulma squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head, fighting against the swell of nausea that wracked her form, bringing her hand to her forehead and dragging her palm down along her cheek in anguish.

She shoved her knuckles in her mouth and bit down to stifle her scream of frustration. As if this day couldn’t get _any_ worse!

This was _bad_. Very bad. Bulma sighed in exasperation as she pinched at the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger, exhaling shaking breaths through her nose and willing her violently trembling body to try to calm down a bit.

“I’ll _kill_ him,” she hissed, keeping her eyes shut and whispering her words through gritted teeth. “All the people he’s _killed_ , blowing up Namek, getting me turned into a fucking disgusting _frog_ , I’ll fucking _kill_ him. I—I’m gonna—blow him up into a million pieces until there’s nothing left! I’m gonna _do_ it, Tarble, you’ll see it. I don’t give a damn if it takes me five minutes or the rest of my life, but I’m gonna fucking _kill_ that robotic lizard prick. I know just the bomb, too.” She was panting heavily now, her shoulders heaving in the release of her anger and fear.

Tarble was silent for several long minutes before he cocked his head to the side, a morose and unhappy expression on his otherwise quite cheerful face. It was clear he wasn’t happy with this plan.

Tarble slowly got to his feet, his hand outstretched to help Bulma up. She hesitated, but only for a fraction of a second before she accepted.

“What can I do to help?” he pleaded. “I wanna _help_ you, Bulma. I’m sure Geta does too, even if my big brother won’t ever admit it,” he asked, biting down on his bottom lip as he looked at her. Bulma, shaken and scared though she was, her current anger towards Frieza wanting to conquer the Earth as just another planet to add to his list of conquests was currently outweighing her timidness.

Bulma rose to her full height and looked down her nose at Prince Vegeta’s younger brother, thinking that after the display of…whatever that was by the lakeside, if that were as close to affection as Vegeta could come, or passion or whatever, if she was going to marry him, she still wanted to do something nice for him, to give him something of herself besides well, herself, which was freely given.

“Do you know your brother’s measurements?” she asked, not bothering to stifle the tiny smile of victory at the look of shock on Tarble’s face. “I want to make Vegeta new armor.”

Tarble quickly nodded. “S—sure, I can get that for you in an hour or two. What else? Should we…should we _tell_ someone about all of this?” he whispered, lowering his voice as he latched onto Bulma’s wrist and began to drag her down the hall.

“No,” Bulma answered immediately in a hardened voice, giving her head a curt little shake.

She felt Tarble stun at her answer, but she glanced at the younger Saiyan Prince off to her right and quickly explained, sensing his confusion.

“I _know_ you love your brother, Tarble. I know Vegeta’s shit with emotions, as you’ve said, and I’ve seen it, but he _does_ care, even if he won’t admit it, the arrogant _ass_ he can be,” she sighed, thinking of how he’d almost gone off on Goku earlier, her fingers ghosting along with the markings on her neck, thinking he wouldn’t have marked her before they were even wedded if Vegeta weren’t bloody serious about this.

“B—but Bulma—” Tarble started to protest, though he clamped his mouth shut as she glared at him, and he was almost reminded of his brother.

“Not one word. I’ve seen his temper. He won’t like hearing this, but he’s not strong enough to go up against Frieza, and I don’t want him getting hurt by flying into a rage and getting a stick up his butt about his stupid pride and doing something dumb to get himself killed. The same thing goes for Goku, too. If I can help take out Frieza by doing this, then I want to. He hurt _me_ just as much as everyone else.”

Tarble blinked, processing her words, though at last, he nodded, albeit reluctantly so. “So, what do you want me to do?” Tarble questioned, casting her a worried look, feeling like he already had his answer when Bulma slowly jutted her chin out defiantly to look at him and fixed with a stony glare.

Bulma bit down on her bottom lip and stuck it out in a slightly pleading pout, her blue eyes shimmering with unshed moisture as Tarble walked her back to Vegeta’s room.

“ _Don’t_ tell your brother. He'll kill me..."


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise not all of this fic is moody and surly. The next upcoming couple of chapters ought to be fun! Bulma ropes Vegeta into taking her on a date by hitting him where it hurts most: his pride.

**12**

**BULMA** inhaled a long drag of her cigarette, swiping the long blue bangs of her pixie cut out of her eyes, wishing that simple act would be enough to quell her racing heart. Vegeta had wanted to speak to her following her ‘chat’ with Frieza and from the sounds of things outside the hallway, was in admittedly less than a good mood.

She cringed the moment his roaring voice almost rattled the closed door of the spare room she’d ducked in to hide. She really needed a moment but Vegeta wasn’t granting her even just five fucking minutes all to herself.

“ **WOMAN**!” His voice resonated with fury. “ **WOMAN! GET OUT HERE, WHERE ARE YOU**? **I CALLED YOU FIVE MINUTES AGO**!”

Bulma groaned and rolled her eyes, exhaling a cloud of smoke and she kept glancing down at her side, cringing every time she tried to take a step, and each time she did, it stung and sent a swell of pain up her spine. This whole ordeal was too fucking much.

She really didn’t need more of Vegeta’s crap right now, and if this were about Goku and his little stupid ‘deal’ he’d made with that alien, the deal was _off_. 

Bulma let out a groan for what had to be the tenth time and wrenched the door open, still clutching her cigarette in between her thumb and index finger, to find the Saiyan Prince stalking his way down the hallway, utterly heaving with rage.

He stormed his way down the hallway so fast, hissing a curse through clenched teeth as he skidded to a halt, though it wasn’t enough to stop himself from colliding with Bulma, who felt a surge in her own temper at Vegeta thinking he could summon her like she was little more than his pet. Flustered and red in the face, he staggered backward and gritted his teeth in anger as an angry blush speckled its way along his cheeks as he gave her a once-over.

“Were you even _watching_ where you were _going_ , Woman?” the Saiyan Prince barked in a hoarse voice as his face flushed red, though his eyes raked up and down Bulma’s slender and curvaceous figure in her simple low-cut red sundress and beige sandals.

His cheeks flushed a bright pink as he glared, pursing his lips in a thin line, folding his arms across his chest.

“Or are you always this much of a _klutz_? Is _this_ what I have to look forward to with you as my mate now?” he snapped, his face mottled in his anger, of which Bulma didn’t know where it was coming from, or why the hostile attitude was warranted. She didn’t know what to say to Vegeta.

“Technically _you_ ran into _me_ , Vegeta, and for the record, appearances aren’t always what they seem. I would have thought _you_ of all people would know that, but I guess I was _wrong_ ,” Bulma argued with a nonchalant shrug, reaching up a hand to tuck a stray wisp of her hair back behind her ear.

Vegeta grunted in response as he looked at her. “Tch,” he scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Whatever. What matters is that I found you,” he snarled, sounding utterly put off. “It took me long enough. We’re _leaving_. _Now_ ,” he growled. “ _Woman_. _Come_ ,” he barked, narrowing his black eyes in ire.

Bulma quirked a thin blue eyebrow at Vegeta, choosing not to budge from her spot in the hall, and settled instead for blowing a puff of smoke from her dwindling cigarette in the Saiyan Prince’s face.

“How _many_?” he growled, narrowing his gaze, and looking towards the cigarette in her fingers with no small measure of disgust as he scrunched his nose and pulled a face of revulsion as she stamped her cigarette out on the wall and let it drop. “ _Answer_ _me_ ,” Prince Vegeta hissed when still, Bulma did not bother gracing him with an answer. “How many packs a day, Woman? You know there’s _cyanide_ in those things, Woman, _don’t_ you? That’s the same thing they used in those gas chambers,” Vegeta snarled. “You really want to _kill_ yourself?”

Bulma rolled her eyes. Someone had done their homework on Earth customs in the last few hours. “What’re _you_ , Vegeta, my _mother_? Since when do you give a shit about me? Do you disapprove of my smoking? That’s _funny_. Well. If we’re going there, then I hate how you _kill_ people! You would have _hurt_ Goku if I hadn’t stopped you!” Bulma snorted, turning away and walking down the hallway. “And where is it you seem to want to take me? I’m not going anywhere with you till you tell me where,” she snapped, knowing his gasket was about to explode. A vein in his neck and above his brow twitched, and an angry red blush speckled up his cheeks, nose, and all the way to the tips of his ears.

She was right, watching his face redden in ire.

“ **SHUT UP! I DON’T WANT TO HEAR ANY MORE OF YOUR EXCUSES, WOMAN! I TOLD YOU WE’RE LEAVING!** ” Prince Vegeta roared, seeming to be on the last vestiges of his patience as he whirled around and thrust his face in close to Bulma’s, so close that the tips of their noses touched. Bulma flinched but didn’t back down. “ **YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW CLOSE YOU CAME TO DYING JUST NOW! ARE YOU REALLY THAT PATHETIC? DON’T YOU HAVE ANY SENSE AT ALL?** ” he shouted, grabbing onto her shoulders, and shaking her roughly, not enough to hurt, but enough to enforce just how fucking royally pissed off he was. “You _mark my words_ , Woman, and mark them _well_ ,” he hissed, narrowing his gaze until his black eyes were almost mere slits, reminding Bulma of a poisonous pit viper. “You’re going to _listen_ to me. I don’t say things _twice_. You’re going to quit smoking those _disgusting_ _cancer_ _sticks_ the second we marry. I won’t have my future queen giving herself sickness over those _disgusting_ things. Do you understand? _Come_ , Woman, I told you, that we’re _leaving_. Right now,” Prince Vegeta barked, turning away from her.

Bulma scoffed and rolled her eyes. “And if I say _no_? I can’t be summoned to your side like a dog, Vegeta! I have a fucking _name_ , you know! _Bulma_ , start using it, buddy. I don’t answer to Woman or anything else!” she challenged hotly, putting her hands on her hips, and fixing the Prince with an ice-cold glare.

She was more tired than angry. She’d barely slept the last couple of nights, and truth be told, she still felt a lingering trail of guilt about her first night here.

But if she felt any guilt about what had happened, it was long gone by the time she stood in the hallway looking at the Saiyan Prince restlessly pacing in front of her, reminding Bulma of a caged tiger, back and forth he went in a repeated motion. He said very little, only gave her a brief withering look of irritation before turning his back away from her and staring moodily out the window.

If Bulma hadn’t been so preoccupied with trying to deduce in her mind how their conversation was to proceed, she would have realized the arrogant, pigheaded Prince of All Saiyans was in fact, _nervous_.

And the only thing Bulma had assumed from his strange behavior was obviously, that he was angry with her for some unknown thing.

“You will _do_ what I say if you want to _live_. Shut up and pay attention, because I won’t repeat myself, Woman. I _hate_ saying things a second time, Bulma. Do you—do you have _any_ idea of the _risk_ you’re putting yourself in? What the hell have you _done_?!? Do you really want to get yourself _killed_ by doing this?!? You don’t stand a chance going against Frieza on your own!” he snarled savagely, clenching his fists in anger. He’d lowered his voice, at least. He wasn’t exactly shouting at her, but nor was he pleased either.

Bulma almost snorted. The idea of Vegeta finding something amusing or even daring to be _happy_ almost made her burst into hysterical laughter.

There were a dozen and one angry retorts flitting on her tongue, _begging_ to be spat out of her with all the hatred and venom she could muster, but Bulma didn’t want to give Vegeta that satisfaction.

Bulma sighed and turned her back, showing the Prince of All Saiyans she wasn’t afraid to disobey the royal prince’s commands of her. She began to walk away, not willing to listen to Vegeta if he were going to rant at her, and she’d barely taken two steps before she heard the Prince shout after her.

“ _Woman_! Where the _hell_ do you think you’re going? H—how _dare_ you turn your _back_ on your _Prince_?” he barked hoarsely, sounding utterly disbelieving and looking at her like she was insane.

Bulma answered him without looking at him.

“ _Home_. I’m going _home_ , Vegeta. Come with me if you want, but I’m not waiting around anymore. Don’t you think my own family deserves to know that I’m getting married, and I _won’t_ be seeing them again? They deserve the right to know. In our line of work, we don’t get second chances, Vegeta. The moment I board Frieza’s ship I might as well already be _dead_.” She sighed and pinched at the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger. “I’m going to say goodbye. You can at _least_ let me have that much, Vegeta. When I’m your wife, I won’t ask you for anything. You can do whatever the fuck you want, I don’t care.” She saw him flinch at her words, but he said nothing.

She pressed on.

“This might be my only shot at seeing my parents, and I intend to take it. I’m _leaving_ this place without or without you. I’d _prefer_ it if you came, but I’m not going to _force_ you,” Bulma blurted out, her blue eyes turning dark and sooty. As she peeked back over her shoulder, she was internally pleased to see Vegeta looking at her like she’d just sprouted two heads. His black eyes turned wild as his lips curled back to reveal his grinding teeth. 

Though before he could take two steps towards her, Bulma began to move further away down the hall from him, the skirt of her swaying red sundress turning Prince Vegeta red.

“Get _back_ here, Woman!” She heard Vegeta hiss through his teeth but to no avail.

She wasn’t going to come back unless he started treating her nicer. It wasn’t necessarily a command he wanted Bulma to quake in fear it. It was definitely a death threat if she didn’t comply, and no, she wasn’t having Vegeta’s bullshit today, either.

And to tease him a little, Bulma quickened her pace and slung the strap of her bag over her shoulder. Since she didn’t have any of her Capsule Corp capsules in her bag, she hoped Tarble would give her a lift home.

She liked the kid well enough, and her first thought was introducing him to Gohan.

_Man, a young man, not a kid_ , Bulma had to remind herself since Vegeta’s brother was married. _But still_ , she thought. Gohan would like him. She made a mental note to introduce the two soon.

Vegeta’s seething voice pulled Bulma from her wandering thoughts. She blinked as she came to herself but didn’t bother to look back over her shoulder.

“ _Woman_. I’m _not_ asking you again. Get back here,” Prince Vegeta growled in a gravelly voice that was the true embodiment of Death itself.

She shivered, though not with fear, but of anger. There was one thing Vegeta was going to have to learn, and it was that just because she was to be his wife meant that she wasn’t going to stand for this subservient mindset any longer. They were to be _equals_. Partners in this marriage or nothing at all.

She had no problems walking away from him right now. Vegeta, however, was not having any of it.

“ _Get back here_. **NOW**!” Vegeta bellowed.

But Bulma Briefs was a fucking _rock_. She’d been weeks ago ever since her return to Namek. She’d only met the Saiyan Prince the once prior, he’d threatened her life and called her ‘gorgeous’. Krillin had tried to protect her. She’d thought that one little encounter was the end of it.

But when they and the Namekians were whisked to Earth by the seven Dragon Balls, he barely spared her a second glance and didn’t even _remember_ her.

But she had remembered _him_. How could she have forgotten the cold, listless look in those murderous eyes? The savage beast that almost killed her. Who the fuck cared when she’d been accustomed to empty words coming from the likes of the arrogant, rude Prince of All Saiyans?

But before Bulma could so much as take one more step to the left that would take her to the front doors of this place in search of Tarble, she felt a firm hand latch itself on the bone of her collarbone, spinning her around with controlled strength and pressure, and slammed her against the wall, emphasizing the insult and humiliation that she had caused him.

She could see the honest ire and wrath in his coal-black eyes and swore they almost became slits.

“ **IF I TELL YOU TO STAY, YOU STAY**!” he shouted, his words dripping off of Vegeta like poison. Bulma imagined the Saiyan Prince turning into a dragon, imagining Vegeta spitting fire and burning her to a crisp where she stood until there was nothing left of her but ashes.

Their chests heaved. It took Bulma a moment to realize the vulnerable position she was in. Her eyes remained fixated on the blotches of flushed crimson in his cheeks before traveling to his pursed thin lips.

Bulma felt like her arm was moving of its own accord, no longer taking direction from her brain as she drew back her hand and backhanded the young Saiyan Prince as hard as she possibly could across his right cheek hard enough to send Vegeta utterly reeling.

There was a welt forming underneath his eye from where her college class ring had caught the skin just underneath, reddening it. His face paled in anger as he staggered backward due to the sheer force of her blow.

It was loud and echoed like a clap long after she had slapped the arrogant Saiyan man.

His face reddened within a half-second of her doing it as he raised a shaking left hand to his face.

“ **WHY, YOU FILTHY BI** —” he started to say, though Bulma effectively shushed the outraged Saiyan Prince by placing her finger on his lips. It worked. What red color was in his face drained.

“ _Shut_. _Up_ ,” she answered flatly, unfazed by the arrogant Saiyan’s outburst, and stomping her foot, a temporary release of frustration. “Don't speak to me like that again, Vegeta, or I'll hit you a second time, and next time, I won't hold back," she growled. "You don’t have to prove your point to me, Vegeta. I’m your _mate_ now, aren’t I? I’m going to be your _wife_ soon. I know what you are. You’re really, _really_ _bad_ , you don’t need to convince me of that. I’ve _seen_ it,” she whispered, standing up on her tiptoes so her hot breaths ghosted along his face.

When he let out a low growl and made to clasp the back of her head to kiss her, his dark eyes clouded over with desire and lust, she quickly resented and stepped back.

“You ask me, I think it’s kinda _hot_ , but that’s not the point.” She shook her head to clear her clouded mind of its lustful thoughts as her mind drifted back to the experience shared by the lakeside’s bed, how it had been rough and gentle at the same time, suggesting to Bulma the Saiyan Prince, as arrogant as he was and pigheaded and thick, had multiple layers to his personality that she’d only just scratched the surface of. “I’ll start treating you with more respect as soon as you start calling me by my _name_ , Vegeta. At a minimum. As soon as _you_ start at least trying to be _nicer_ to me, I won’t put up so much of a fight like this,” she said. “I’ll be _good_.” Her voice was small as she quieted.

Vegeta withdrew his face from hers as though he’d been burned. She could see a droplet of sweat trickle on his left temple. She knew what he thought.

_Bulma, you bitch_! She could see it in his eyes. Bulma’s gaze hardened, and his own black eyes narrowed in a slight suspicion and repeated her promise. “I’ll be good in our marriage…A perfect little _wife_. I won’t fight you. _Use_ me if you _want_ , Vegeta.”

The bitterness settled and lingered upon her tongue, and she might as well have been drinking piss for the disgusting taste it left in her mouth.

“I’ll be _good_. I’m not gonna fight you. I won’t struggle. Who knows…” Bulma swallowed. “You can impregnate with your baby if you want, but I’m not gonna _apologize_ anymore to you. I don’t owe you an explanation as to why I want to do this. My reasons are my own.”

Coldly fuming, a muscle in Vegeta’s jaw twitched as he breathed in and out to the side, she could almost see the veins in his head contemplating her words. She leaned forward and sneered at the Prince’s growing discomfort, knowing she had this effect on him and could use it to her advantage.

“I must have _misheard_ you. You better _hope_ I did, otherwise you’re _dead_ , Woman,” he hissed, though his breaths died in his throat as Bulma’s arm shot out and wound around Vegeta’s strong bicep.

Bulma felt something ugly within her rise as her own temper soared to new heights and something snapped as her own temper imploded.

She had been trying to remain calm, but the arrogant prick was making it so fucking difficult.

Bulma gritted her teeth and clenched her fists, shoving the Prince back away from her as he stepped forward. “ **WHO ARE YOU CALLING WOMAN, MY NAME IS BULMA, VEGETA! FUCK**! **CALL ME BY MY NAME! OR I SWEAR TO GOD I’LL FIND A WAY TO KILL YOU, VEGETA! SEE IF I’M FUCKING JOKING!** ” She shouted, her voice hoarse. Bulma was pleased to see she’d caught him off guard as the Saiyan Prince’s face paled in rage. Her shoulders heaved in frustration as she blinked back the onset of tears as she swallowed down past the lump in her throat.

She felt Vegeta stun at her outburst a little, though he quickly recovered and folded his arms across his chest.

“Tch,” Vegeta scoffed. “You can’t _kill_ _me_ ,” he snorted, rolling his eyes. “You’re not capable of killing _anyone_ , Bulma,” he growled. Bulma startled at hearing the Saiyan Prince use her first name. Maybe he was willing to listen to her after all.

Bulma felt the shift within her chest continue and the worst of her anger dissipated as she looked at Vegeta.

“Watch me, Vegeta,” she snarled, her body heaving in anger. “Frieza’s killed so many. So, have you, Vegeta. _Goku. Gohan. Piccolo. You_. I am _tired_ of my hero friends _dying_ while _villains_ like Frieza get to _live_. Everyone has their breaking point, and this is _mine_ ,” she whisper-hissed hoarsely through gritted teeth. “I’m going to kill Frieza myself, and if you stand in my way, you won’t _have_ a _willing_ wife. I’ll fight you every step of the way if you get in my way. Don’t you want your wife _willing_ , Geta?” she whispered into the shell of his ear. His words as he whispered them in a gruff and rough voice filled her.

It seemed an eternity before Vegeta spoke and when he did, Bulma heard the faltering crack and dip of his gruff and rough voice as he answered.

“I, I do…want you… _willing_ … _Bulma_ …” he breathed into her lips before closing off the gap of space, his hands practically clawing at her sides, stroking her collarbones before lowering his hands to her hips and pressing her up against the wall, forcing Bulma to wrap her legs awkwardly around Vegeta’s hips. She sucked in her new mate’s breath like it was the only air left on planet Earth, and for all she knew, once she boarded Frieza’s ship and Vegeta left her after their wedding to go to that stupid planet, it would be pretty much it, then.

She felt his body stiffen at the unexpected gesture. His kiss wasn’t the same like Yamcha’s had been. But one stepped in a passion that ignited a flame churning within the pit of Bulma’s stomach. It was the promise of something real, of the primal desire that lived in all of them. And with it, Vegeta told Bulma in that kiss that she was awake, connected within, that he embraced what he was.

Bulma caught a quick moan from Vegeta’s throat that sent her mind reeling with excitement.

Oh, she had him now. He twisted his head to the side, his tongue deepening the kiss, though before it could escalate further and he wound up tearing her clothes off right here in the hallway, she quickly broke apart, a heated sigh escaping her lips.

The flustered Saiyan Prince moved in to kiss her fervently again, and Bulma had gotten the intended reaction out of him that she’d hoped for, smiling almost evilly to herself as she stepped back.

Prince Vegeta’s lips were slightly agape and swollen and full of lust like she was his last bit of air. But his face, her own skin red and heated, was something new to take in sight of. At first, Bulma thought she might be hallucinating this.

There was faint color on his cheeks. He was flushed, Prince Vegeta was… he was… _blushing_. It wasn’t something anyone would witness in the Prince of All Saiyans in a million and one lives. There it was again. That flickering of emotion, of words unspoken that passed in his eyes.

Though what that thing or those ‘things’ might be, only Vegeta knew, but they couldn’t discuss these things unless he opened up and talked to her about it. Something that was sure to be a difficult task for the cold and stoic Saiyan Prince.

After several minutes of thick and excruciating silence, the Prince of All Saiyans finally turned on his heels to face Bulma, the irritable expression on his face still very much intact, sadly.

He looked almost tired, Bulma observed, the skin underneath his eyes dark and sallow-looking, as if he hadn’t slept a wink much the last few nights.

This at least, he had in common with her. Bulma’s only consultation to assuage her own guilt that she felt was that at least Vegeta wasn’t shouting. He let out a low growl from within his chest and spoke to Bulma in a dangerously quiet voice.

Vegeta pinched at his nose as though he were fighting off a splitting headache as he looked at her.

“Do you even have any _idea_ what your life means? Going _alone_ with no backup against Frieza? Putting yourself at risk is pretty _goddamned_ _stupid_ , Woman,” Prince Vegeta growled in a dangerously low and quiet voice. “But you should be smart enough to know that going _anywhere_ without me is fucking idiotic. If you want to prove to me that you’re not a _moron_ like Kakarot is, you’ll call _me_ next time.”

His voice was rough and coarse as he observed Bulma somewhat precariously through the dim light, like she was a wild, unstable, and exotic creature he’d cornered and had no idea what to do with her, the irony of this not lost on Bulma.

Vegeta’s sharp black gaze glittered as he glowered at her, his eyes burning brighter than midnight torches as he waited for her to answer.

“Well, I guess we’re _both_ _disappointed_ in each other then, Vegeta, aren’t we?” Bulma retorted, unable to disguise the note of bitterness in her voice as she gaped at him. A strange expression flickered through Vegeta’s black eyes, unreadable, and it was gone before Bulma could really decipher what it might mean.

All at once, she felt guilty. She hadn’t meant for it to sound so condescending and angered at what Vegeta had done, especially not after Tarble explained how this was the Saiyan way, their culture, how he had more or less tried to protect her.

But going almost apeshit on Goku was too much, even if Goku had accidentally _spied_ on them.

What Bulma wanted the most was _a certainty_. The certainty that Vegeta wouldn’t do it again.

She exhaled a slow and shaking breath through her nose and slowly lifted her gaze to meet Vegeta’s.

She noticed him crinkling his nose, looking like he was fighting back a sneeze, though, with the temperamental Saiyan Prince, Bulma knew that wasn’t the case. There was something darker brooding underneath the surface of his hard gaze.

Bulma’s gaze followed where he was looking, and she was more than surprised to see Vegeta was glowering at the stamped-out cigarette she’d flicked to the ground with no small measure of disgust in his eyes. “You really don’t approve of it, do you?”

“No.” Just a one-word answer and more of a growl, though Vegeta didn’t bother to elaborate further. “Any children we might sire as long as you smoke those disgusting things would be _damaged_ , and I’ll be goddamned if _my_ Saiyan sons will be _weak_.”

He let out a frustrated sigh and ran his hands through his hair. Bulma lifted her head and saw Prince Vegeta leaning against the cobblestoned wall, his arms folded on his chest. She saw him move slowly towards her, almost like a panther in the night stalking his prey. He let out a haggard sigh and pinched at the front of his temples with his thumb and forefinger. 

“I came to find you. To _talk_. I—I did not mean… _this_. I take back my words, Bulma.” His voice was flat, though even as he sort of attempted to apologize, it sounded as though it was causing his insufferable pride great pain as he spat the words through gritted teeth. “Frieza is sending me to Yardrat after our wedding, Bulma. I just thought you should know before you heard it from… _others_.”

It sounded like he had more or less blurted it out, thoughtless and without much prompting on his part. But he didn’t look like he regretted saying it.

“How long?” Bulma questioned, wondering how Vegeta could have known this, given he wasn’t present in the room with her when Frieza had informed him Vegeta was leaving, and then she figured perhaps the freak had stopped him on his way out.

Vegeta ran a hand over the tangled mats of his raven hair. “Days…weeks… _months_. However long it takes to sort out the conflict. I’m to leave two days after our wedding. Not that it matters since you don’t seem to care one way or another what happens to _me_. Will my mate give me a _toast_ to my _death_?” he growled lowly, his black eyes narrowed angrily.

His voice was bitter, laced to the brim with self-loathing and hatred, spat more than spoken through gritted teeth as he waited for Bulma to answer him.

“Don’t say that. You’ll come back to me,” Bulma snapped, feeling a brief surge of panic well within her chest at the thought. She froze as she saw the faintest flickers of amusement dart through the Saiyan Prince’s black eyes, and he almost— _almost_ —smirked at Bulma.

Bulma furrowed her thin blue brows and wondered what the reason was for Vegeta seeking her out like this.

“You _really_ hold yourself in so little regard? Can’t we just _pretend_ , even for a couple of days that we like each other?” She could see the Prince give a start at her words, his lips parted open slightly in shock. He hadn’t expected her to echo his own words to her during her first night in his company. “You—you could have _left_ me, you know. Or killed me, or my dad or the rest of my family, Vegeta. Why didn’t you? Is it really so wrong to care for someone else?” Her words were unassuming and soft, carrying no hint of blame.

His immediate reaction, as Bulma had accurately predicted it would be from him, was one of instant wariness, his posture and expression he wore on his face guarded, Vegeta’s eyes narrowed. Despite the cold harshness of Vegeta’s black eyes, she kept her gaze firmly fixed on his, unwilling for her words to lose any kind of meaning with her future husband.

His posture instantly changed the moment Bulma took a few cautious half-steps towards where he rested against the wall for support. She briefly caught the shadow of the mad beast within him that lay beyond in his cold, fathomless pits of coal that were the Prince’s eyes.

Bulma supposed she ought to be grateful Vegeta didn’t have his tail anymore.

She cringed as a shudder went down her spine of the memories a few times Goku had transformed. She did not want that to be her mate. She swallowed past a lump in her throat and continued, hoping he was at least hearing her words, if not at a minimum pretending to listen.

“But you _didn’t_ ,” she continued, with just a hint of awe creeping into the seriousness of her voice. “You brought me back here, and now you’ve _slept_ with me and you want to _marry_ me? That doesn’t sound like the actions of a Saiyan warrior who doesn’t care. I think you know what you want, even if you can’t…if you can’t express it,” she whispered, jutting out her chin and looking at him defiantly. “Don’t you think we ought to at least _try_ to get along? Even if it’s just for a couple of nights, can we _try_?” Even as she spoke the words, they sounded _ridiculous_ to her. She could not believe she was having this conversation with Vegeta of all people! Yamcha, maybe, but never a Saiyan Prince!

Bulma felt her breaths catch in her throat and her tongue felt thick in her mouth.

She fought against the urge to wring her hands together out of a nervous habit and instead settled to place her hands behind her back, hoping Vegeta wouldn’t see how badly her hands were shaking as she looked at him.

She lifted her gaze and met Vegeta’s impassive expression. His face was blank, the face of the warrior he was, though Bulma swore she saw a flicker of some unidentifiable emotion dart through his eyes.

“I don’t deserve your… _protection_ , Vegeta, but…I want you to know that I’m truly grateful for it. And…you still haven’t told me where you’re taking me.” She almost said _kindness_ but stopped herself.

Something told her the Prince of All Saiyans would balk at knowing he had been kind to someone and he’d protest and say that he _wasn’t_ a kind man. But Bulma knew the truth. Deep down, he was. It just needed a little bit of coaxing out of him.

Vegeta narrowed his gaze at Bulma, trying to decide if his Woman was insane or just vastly naïve.

“You’re a curious woman, Bulma.” He swallowed and looked away, the worst of his anger dissipating the longer he looked at the blue-haired beauty. He settled for fixating on his teeth markings on her neck that claimed her as rightfully his, a distraction that Vegeta secretly welcomed as he found Bulma’s unyielding gaze too unnerving for his own liking. “Your _wit’s_ not the only attribute that causes misfortune, Bulma,” he growled. “Your natural _beauty_ does, too,” he hissed, a surge of jealous anger coursing through his veins as he thought of Raditz and Nappa.

He raised his head just in time to see Bulma duck her head and lower her gaze, her all-too knowing eyes hidden by her bangs as they fell in front of her face like a curtain, keeping what expression Bulma wore from him. For just a second, Vegeta felt a marring shame wrack his body and send the heat to his cheeks as he admitted to himself the Woman’s redirection allowed him to feel a little bit at ease.

“I guess you’re right,” she muttered after a moment, her tone solemn, though no longer angry.

A rare glimpse of a smile flitted across her features though Vegeta noted it didn’t reach her eyes. “Indeed,” he agreed almost _too_ quickly, his clipped tone bordering on biting as he looked away.

He clenched his teeth together, cutting off any statement that he’d had prepared in his mind. She waited for a moment or two to see if the Saiyan Prince was going to say anything more. When she didn’t, she let out a sigh and looked away.

“Well, if there’s nothing more you want to say to me, Vegeta,” she sighed, her expression remaining unchanged, though her face did relax slightly, “I’m _leaving_. I’m starved, haven’t eaten anything since breakfast,” Bulma said softly and began to turn away, though she was halted when Vegeta’s strong grip came to wind around her arm. She turned to look at him.

“I came to say—” he started to say, but she shushed him by putting her finger to his lips again.

“Don’t.” Bulma was calmer now, thank god, and no longer red in the face, but quick to comprehend. “I don’t need to hear you say it. Don’t say it. I already know what you think. We’ll _make_ it work, Vegeta. Don’t we owe it to each other to _try_?”

“You…you would _want_ that?” The Prince of All Saiyans almost sounded in utter disbelief. “But…you hate me, Woman. _Bulma_ ,” he stammered, quickly trying to correct himself for his slip as he noticed Bulma’s face redden in ire, suddenly at a loss.

“As you hate me, Prince, I’m sure.” Bulma was half-smiling at the look of shock on Vegeta’s pale face.

“I…” _Don’t. I don’t hate you_ , is what he wanted to say, but couldn’t manage to make his lips form the words. The look brimming in her blue eyes told Vegeta that she had heard. She blinked in startled surprise, though the expression of shock and awe was enough.

She stiffened as Vegeta lifted his hands to her flushed cheeks.

“I _will_ be back from Yardrat, Bulma. You have my word, but…” Prince Vegeta hesitated, his dark eyebrows knitting together in a troublesome scowl that Bulma at first wasn’t quite sure what to make of. “I was intending to take you home _anyways_. I forgot to do something, something that Father is _making_ me do, though if you ask me, your _stupid_ pathetic Earth customs are a fucking _waste_ of my time, Bulma,” Vegeta growled, his voice sounding thoroughly disgruntled. It took Bulma a minute to work out what he meant, and then she remembered.

“Oh. My dad,” she chuckled, wiping her blue bangs out of her eyes as Vegeta merely grunted in response but he inclined his head slightly and nodded. “Eh, you’ll be fine. Just swallow your pride and do it. It’s an honorable thing to do here on Earth. My dad will understand once I talk to him first, Vegeta. They might not understand our reasons at first, but in time, they’ll come around.” She snorted. “My mom already thinks you’re hot,” she grinned, her smile widening at the blush that intensified on Vegeta’s cheeks. “And so, do I, Prince. What little I _do_ know of you, Prince, I like. Even if you are a hot-headed arrogant _jerk_ at times. Despite being worried about my safety, you didn’t come in the room with me to see Lord Frieza when you could have just kicked it down and raised holy hell. That suggests that you’re okay with letting me take this risk, even if you don’t want to admit it to yourself. You’ll let me help you. You ah… you _kissed_ me and slept with me, which indicates that you’re physically attracted to me, so you’re not put off or repulsed by me. You don’t seem to mind my temper too terribly much. Not many can handle me, Vegeta.”

The way Bulma smiled in Prince Vegeta’s direction flamed his insides. There was a devious glint in her blue eyes that caused the mad Saiyan beast within his chest and mind to roar and purr in pleasure.

“Your Earth customs,” Vegeta barked in a hoarse voice, wishing to change the topic of conversation back to what he’d originally come for, exhaling a shaking breath through his nose, and raking his fingers through his hair. “Require that I ask your father for his… _permission_ first before we marry,” he spat the word as though it were poison on his tongue. “What else?” he snapped in a disgruntled sounding voice. He grew annoyed when Bulma did not answer and felt his temper swelling.

“What else what?” Bulma asked, confused, not quite getting it as she furrowed her thin eyebrows.

“What else _is_ there?!?” Vegeta demanded in an exasperated-sounding voice. “Your _other_ traditions.”

“Oh, uh…” Bulma’s voice trailed off as she looked into Vegeta’s narrowed black eyes, his expression guarded and weary-looking. “Well, there’s…we could go on a date? That’s something that humans do when trying to get to know one another.”

“Tch. Sounds _boring_ ,” Vegeta growled, though, underneath the surly tones of the Saiyan Prince’s voice, Bulma could tell he was at least a little curious.

It was then as the flicker of that unfamiliar emotion darted through the Saiyan Prince’s black eyes passed as quickly as it had come that Bulma began to get a truly horrible idea. A wonderfully, awful idea.

Not even bothering to hide her wickedly evil smirk that tugged the corners of her lips upward, she playfully shot out her elbow and jabbed the Prince in his ribs. “ _Hey_!” he barked, shooting Bulma a glower.

“Oh, quit your crap, Vegeta. I have an idea.” And this was more or less the truth. Chi-Chi had mentioned wanting to get together with her at some point to spend some time, what better way to do that than to go on a double date with Chi-Chi and Goku?

“Oh _yeah_?” he grunted, keeping his arms folded across his chest. “And what would that be?”

Bulma felt her grin spread wide across her face like a Cheshire Cat’s smile as she wound her fingers through Vegeta’s hands. She heard his sharp intake of breath, but neither did he pull away from her embrace.

“Goku’s taking his wife on a date tomorrow,” she teased, already sensing the dawning anger in his eyes. “Chi-Chi’s always complaining about how he never showers her with any attention and forgets about her. If there’s one thing you _can_ best my best friend at, it’s how to be a good husband. Take me on a date? We could meet Goku and Chi-Chi somewhere tomorrow.”

Bulma knew by the way his eyes narrowed in anger at the thought of Goku besting him at even _this_ , that she had him wound around her little pinky finger.

Vegeta looked at his Woman, and when she could tell his discomfort at the idea of wasting his time with this had reached an all-time high, Bulma winked at him and sent Vegeta’s heart plummeting to his stomach.

“What? You think you can’t handle it?” she asked with a grin, relishing at how his face paled.

“Tch.” Vegeta huffed indignantly, keeping his arms folded across his chest, though he didn’t shrug out of the Woman’s grasp as he swallowed while he waited for his heart to climb back up into his chest.

“Uh-huh. There’s that look,” Bulma grinned, leaning into Vegeta’s chest, her blue eyes twinkling. “Don’t you want your wife to be happy, Vegeta? A loyal, handsome, and brave Saiyan Prince like this wouldn’t dare anger his future queen, would he? Not taking her on a date is the highest form of disrespect. What on earth am I going to do with you, Vegeta?”

Vegeta stiffened, purposefully keeping his mind closed off from the Woman.

_Love me, marry me, fuck me stupid, have powerful Saiyan babies with me, Bulma. Don't leave me…_

He stared into her mischievous blue eyes, knowing that he wasn’t going to hear the end of this, nor he was going to let fucking Kakarot beat him at yet another thing in this life, even if it was simple as proving which one of them was the better partner.

He took Bulma’s smile as a good sign that she was no longer angry with him, or at least willing to forgive him and swallowed every last ounce of his pride, hardly _daring_ to believe the words that were coming out of his mouth. Words he never thought he would utter in his lifetime.

“You could let me take you to dinner?”


	13. Chapter 13

**13**

**BULMA** wasn't about to wait another goddamn minute. Vegeta was running _late_ , and she wasn't having it. She was already in a foul enough mood as it was that Vegeta didn't really want to go of his own volition, that he was only doing this to appease her in order to honor Earth customs as well as Saiyan tradition when courting someone, which she still had yet to learn.

She was hoping maybe tonight after they got back and Vegeta talked with her father, he would tell her something of what a Saiyan woman did to prove her dedication and loyalty to their partner once they were married if there was something Vegeta wanted her to do for him.

As she pondered this thought, she thought of how her day had been spent, pouring over Frieza's schematics, and beginning crafting the microscopic bomb she planned to an implant with a radius that was sure to take out at least a good chunk of West City if she weren't careful.

She'd finished up Vegeta's new suit of armor too and hoped to give it to him before their wedding.

Bulma hoped he would like it.

The day had ebbed by slower than old treacle. Bulma's usual relaxed stance had been replaced by a stiff mannequin pose while she waited for the Saiyan Prince to meet her on the sidewalk in West City, while she waited for Chi-Chi and Goku.

Any other October evening she might have smiled wistfully at the couples filling the café sidewalk.

She might have seen her future reflected within them, her hand being touched gently by a man who adored her and a shy, flirtatious smile tugging at her luscious lips.

But not tonight. Tonight, Bulma tugged at the new dress the store assistant swore had looked so flattering when she tried it on. It was a simple thing, a red turtleneck sweater dress paired with black leggings and a pair of knee-high black heeled leather boots.

Now Bulma wondered if Vegeta would think it was too short. With each tug, the front went even lower, and she was only going to tug the fabric even more than she already had, so she stopped it.

With no time to stop by her parent's house, she was just going to have to wing it.

Tarble had dropped her off earlier this afternoon, where she'd been reunited with her parents for a couple of hours before having to leave to meet Vegeta, Goku, and Chi-Chi at the corner of 10th and Main St, close to the movies.

They expressed concerns over Bulma's news that she was marrying the very Saiyan brute who'd kidnapped her (well, more so her father than her mother) but they were just happy to have their daughter back home safe and sound, even for a little while.

Bulma sighed, catching a glimpse of her reflection in the nearby shop window she waited in front of, swiping the long bangs of her new blue pixie cut out of her eyes as the slightly chilly autumnal breeze blew through the streets.

Her makeup was simple. Natural. A little foundation, some setting powder, eyeshadow, and liner. A light pink lip gloss. Nothing fancy but enough to show she cared enough to try her best for Vegeta. Those women at the tables looked so goddamned casual, some were hardly wearing any makeup, and others not at all.

 _Maybe I should have done that_ , Bulma thought, chewing on the wall of her mouth. _Show him I'm so at ease in our pending marriage that I can show up in the cargo pants I wore all day and my hiking boots_.

At least in the fading light, the red of her new sweater dress wasn't so garish, so bold, because inside, Bulma just wanted to find a quiet place to hide.

She pulled out her phone, not to check for messages, but to give her hands something to do to quell the shakes.

There was something about Vegeta's intensity that set her heart racing too fast… Bulma inhaled one more drag of her cigarette, hoping it would have been enough to calm down her racing heart in her chest.

She felt her anxiety start to spike to new heights again. But every time Bulma managed to calm herself down again, she'd look down at her phone again and see Vegeta was five minutes late, so were Goku and Chi-Chi, and then she was right back to square one. She was wondering if she'd been stood up, though she heard Vegeta's voice behind her.

"Bulma. Good. You're here. Sorry, I'm _late_. Tarble kept me longer than I would have liked, so he'll be hearing from _me_ later when we get back," he grumbled. "Have Kakarot and his Woman arrived yet? I'm already ready to _leave_ , I don't know why you're making me do this, this is a _waste_ of my time, Woman, why are we here?" Vegeta barked in his gruff, calm voice from behind, tapping her arm before curling his fingers over it. She didn't turn around at first.

Bulma was still annoyed with Vegeta for making her wait so damn long and not even using their shared impossible telepathy as bonded mates to say that he was running a bit late. "It's about _damn_ time, Vegeta! Do you know how _long_ I've been _waiting_? Almost _thirty_ minutes! And where the hell are Goku and Chi-Chi? Are they coming? If they're gonna be late too, I really should consider getting you and Goku cell phones with a really great intergalactic signal, that way you can at _least_ call me," she huffed. "What _took_ you so long, your Royal Highness?" she snapped, feeling her annoyance outweigh her relief that her future husband hadn't stood her up. "I swear to God, Vegeta, you took longer to get ready than a _woman_. What's your deal?" Bulma rolled her eyes as she shifted her little black purse to her other arm as she heard Vegeta scoff and make a noncommittal grunting noise at the back of his throat. He sounded almost disgruntled.

" _Listen_ , Woman, it was _your_ idea to drag me out here to spend an evening with _Kakarot_ and his overbearing _nagging bitch_ of a wife, which _isn't_ my idea of a good time, Bulma, so don't you _start_ ," he growled, sidestepping to stand in front of her, rendering Bulma speechless as she caught wind of his attire.

As she lifted her gaze, everything felt surreal. Her eyes widened as she felt her heartbeats start to race, even her hands felt clammy despite the cool chillness of the air.

The fading light of the last vestiges of the sunset cast a shadow against the Saiyan Prince's silhouette.

Unlike before, tonight, Vegeta was dressed smartly.

She guessed Tarble had something to do with this, convincing him to discard his armor for this. Vegeta's little brother was quickly becoming fascinated with human culture, studying their ways of life, and learning to adapt much faster than his big brother was.

The Prince of All Saiyans had donned a sharp-fitting black sport coat and matching black trousers, allowing Bulma to see just how broad his form was now that he wasn't hiding most of his features behind his armor.

He looked…almost subdued. Bulma parted her lips open to speak and her voice died in her throat as she stared at the man she was marrying in three days now standing in front of her, his trademark scowl knitted across his handsome face, though she couldn't be sure, he almost smiled.

Though for Vegeta, it was more of a smirk, which she guessed was as close to a smile as she was likely to get from the Saiyan Prince. The Prince took a step forward, leaving Bulma nowhere to look but straight at Vegeta. To do anything else or look down or fidget with the strap of her purse would have made her look foolish and not at all together.

There was no avoiding Vegeta's face, Bulma thought as she sucked in a breath of cool air.

That was the most jarring feature of all about the Saiyan. His jaw was sharp and angular, which could no doubt cut like a knife, and his high cheekbones and wild black hair were all that was needed to give the Saiyan Prince a rather haughty appearance as he stared across at Bulma, his arms folded neatly behind his back calmly.

"You seem to have lost the power of _speech_ , Bulma," Vegeta barked in a somewhat smug and triumphant voice, before turning away, though not before Bulma caught the faint blush of red speckling along his cheeks as he took in her slim figure in her new outfit. "I'm sure you'll regain it soon enough, Woman."

Bulma was so flabbergasted, she completely forgot to scold Vegeta for calling her 'Woman,' though she'd not forgotten their little yelling match in the hall last night. The moment Vegeta opened his mouth and addressed her, it was like Bulma woke up from being hypnotized into some kind of trance.

There was almost a warmth to his voice she'd never heard from Vegeta thus far in their relatively short acquaintance before and as she looked up, she thought she saw him smile, though the faint ghost of the unfamiliar emotion on his face was gone the moment they heard Goku's shrill voice.

" _Hey, watch it, Kakarot_!" Vegeta bellowed, raising his arms to shield his face.

The next thing Prince Vegeta knew, the black sport coat Tarble had coerced him into wearing for this stupid Earth date with his Woman was covered in the remnants of an iced coffee and whipped cream.

He hissed a curse and wiped hastily at the spilled drink, snatching a napkin from Bulma that she hastily procured from one of her purse's compartments and handed to Vegeta. He merely grunted in response.

As if tonight couldn't get any fucking _worse_. It was bad enough he had to go on this date alongside Kakarot and his wife. Now he was sticky, cold, and looked like a complete _idiot_ in front of his own Woman, who surely thought him a blind and bloody _fool_ for not catching it.

Vegeta felt a warning bell go off in his mind as he lifted his gaze and glowered at Kakarot. He'd been the one holding the drink that Vegeta was now unfortunately covered in, despite his and Bulma's best efforts to clean it up.

For a split second, Kakarot almost looked apologetic as he shot the pair of them a sheepish white grin and gingerly rubbed at the back of his neck. Then he gave Prince Vegeta a once-over, grinning.

"Heh," Goku chuckled nervously, either totally oblivious or choosing to ignore Vegeta's reddening face and Bulma's little groan she gave off as she turned away. "W—would you look at that! My drink looks even better on you, Vegeta!" he joked weakly. "Sorry, Vegeta!"

"Fuck off, Kakarot, you _clown_ , you're such an idiot," Vegeta snarled, ignoring Kakarot's wife's growing look of anger at his language, though since she'd not brought their brat with them, he wasn't going to bother minding his tongue.

He took off his jacket so he could finish wiping it down, revealing a black collared shirt underneath.

"Were you even watching where you were _going_? You weren't, were you?" Vegeta snapped.

"No," Goku answered in an infuriatingly casual voice as he shrugged. "I'll let it slide though if we can go check out the carnival and you buy me another one. I promised Chi-Chi we'd go."

"Are you _kidding_ me?!"

Prince Vegeta's voice rose an octave in disgust as his head whiplashed sharply to the right to regard his Woman, who'd clamped a hand over her mouth and was barely succeeding in hiding her knowing smirk from Vegeta as she ducked her head.

" _You_ _knew_ ," he growled, whisper-hissing his words through clenched teeth as he stalked towards Bulma. "You didn't say anything about a fucking carnival, _Bulma_ , you said dinner and taking me to someplace for a drink called coffee and that was it. Did you lie to me?!" Vegeta snarled angrily, hoping his mate hadn't deceived him.

She shrugged her shoulders and as Vegeta briefly closed his eyes and probed her mind, he let out a shaking sigh of relief that proved she hadn't. She'd not known Kakarot wanted to go to some stupid carnival-like he was a child again.

" _Maybe_ ," his Woman replied in a voice feigning innocence, though her blue eyes were twinkling mischievously that sent the familiar fiery ache in between his legs. "You're lucky you're so _cute_ , Vegeta, it's hard to stay mad at you, you know," Bulma snorted as she slung her arm around the Saiyan Prince's waist, a light blush of her own speckling along her cheeks as she felt his hand instinctively wind around her middle and pull her close, so their shoulders touched, closing off the gap of space between them. She snorted as she heard him splutter.

" _Hey_! I— _I'm not_ _cute_! _Shut up_!" he growled, turning his head to look away as his blush traveled all the way up to the tips of his ears as he scoffed and swallowed down hard.

But Bulma couldn't resist teasing Vegeta just a little bit. She reached up a hand and tousled his thick tuft of wild black hair. "Cute, cute, _cute_ , Vegeta!" she grinned.

"Will you _stop_ calling me _cute_! I'm _not_ cute! Shut up! Woman, get your _hands_ _off_ _of me_! I don't know _where_ those have been!" Vegeta growled, pulling his gums back to reveal his clenched teeth, something dark glittering in his black irises as he looked at her and momentarily forgot about Kakarot and Chi-Chi. "I don't want you to get this shit all over you, it's bad enough Kakarot over here was a fucking _fool_ and got it on me. Do you even know where your hands have been?!" he snapped haughtily, scrunching his nose as he patted at a bit of Kakarot's drink that had splattered on his left jacket sleeve in his ire.

"Oh, just all over your _dad_ , and all over _you_ too, but that's beside the point. I'm trying to help you!" Bulma joked, inwardly relishing at the look of annoyance on the Saiyan Prince's face as his head jerked sharply up as he glowered at her. "Don't sweat it, Geta! You'll see, honey."

Bulma fell silent and watched Vegeta startle at the use of the term 'honey' for him. His face paled and a mad blush speckled on his cheeks though it didn't look as he _disliked_ it. She made a mental note and filed it away for later.

Vegeta was proving to be a private man. She thought his eyes softened slightly, though just as quickly as it had come, it was gone as he seemed to remember where he was and who was alongside them. His face blanched.

" _Disgusting_!" he shouted, his lips agape as if devoid of words, his face paling in shock at her words, though if Bulma wasn't mistaken, the slightest hint of arousal was seen in Vegeta's eyes at the way she dared to talk back to him. "That's so fucking _gross_. Let me _go_ , Woman!"

Bulma knew at that moment she had truly met her soulmate, though whether or not Vegeta knew it too remained to be seen, though she suspected the Saiyan warrior had an inkling. Otherwise, he wouldn't have had sex with her and marked her as his mate or wouldn't be marrying her. Bulma knew he'd never admit it.

"So, do you guys want to _go_ or _not_? We came all this way, might as well!" Chi-Chi's voice cut through Bulma's swirl of conflicting thoughts as she looked at Vegeta, seeming like he was struggling to keep from flying into a rage at more of Goku's antics as he'd spotted the faint outline of West City's annual Harvest Festival carnival in the distance and was almost bouncing up and down on the balls of his heels in a childlike fashion, he was so excited.

Bulma fought to keep from smiling at the look of dawning horror in her prideful betrothed's eyes.

" _What_?" Prince Vegeta stammered and spluttered as he turned towards his Woman. He could not believe what he was hearing. He rolled his eyes and restlessly paced the edge of the sidewalk, needing to expel some of his energy. "How could the two of you think this is a good idea?" he growled, shoving his hands into the pockets of his black sport coat, still grumbling under his breath that Kakarot had spilled his stupid coffee on it.

Maybe that's why he was wired, though Kakarot behaved like a little kid most of the time, so to see him like this wasn't at all surprising. Vegeta inwardly groaned, cringing. This was _not_ going to be fun for him.

Bulma furrowed her thin blue eyebrows into a frown. "Would you calm _down_ already, Vegeta? It's not a big deal. It's just a carnival."

"Not a big deal?!" he bellowed, stomping his foot on the sidewalk, and tugging on locks of his hair. "What do you _mean_ it's not a big deal?"

The Woman's frown only deepened, which only sent a fiery ache through his loins.

She looked much like she did in the hallway last night right before Bulma had slapped him, _hard_. Gods be damned, but even in her growing rancor and annoyance with him, she was still so beautiful. Her voice pulled him from his mind.

"Your voice is doing that high-pitched thing again, Highness," Bulma snapped, arching a thinly arched eyebrow in Vegeta's direction.

"I _know_ it is!" Vegeta retorted hotly, huffing, and began to fidget with his fingers as he kept his hands shoved in his jacket pockets.

He wanted to stay mad at the Woman, and at Kakarot, he really did, but his mind kept flashing back to the look Bulma was giving him. So determined, so sure of herself… _strong_. Vegeta shook his head.

No. It was not enough for him, even if she'd already been marked. Despite the reassurance she had given him, he still wanted some semblance of certainty. He wanted to be positive she wanted him.

 _Really_ wanted him, not just out of a sense of nobility and her own pride to save her family. What was the point of taking a mate if the Woman did not care for him, then? Nothing, that's what. By the end of the night, he'd know.

He made a silent vow to himself to discover the truth as he met the Woman's gaze and locked eyes as icy-cold glaciers met black coal, and together, the two gazes were flames.

The fact that fucking _Kakarot_ had more or less _planned_ this little outing only made Vegeta worry inwardly even more. Vegeta liked being in control, and he liked knowing what was about to happen, and fucking Kakarot was a wild, unstable force that was unpredictable in his life that he had no clue how to anticipate his motive.

For all he could know, this was just a ploy on Kakarot's part to humiliate him and Bulma.

"Vegeta!" An arm appeared around his shoulder and tugged him flush against Bulma's short body. They were about the same height.

A faint scent of lavender and honeysuckle wafted through his flaring nostrils, whatever perfume she was wearing did something to him, in a good way.

Vegeta couldn't explain the peace wallowing in his soul the more time he spent with his mate but considering fucking Kakarot was grinning like a fool at the flushed and startled expression on Vegeta's face, there was no _way_ he was going to let on that he liked it.

"Ugh! Get away from me, Woman, did you have to use so much perfume?" Vegeta growled as he attempted to wriggle away, his cheeks now beet red, but Bulma's grip for a human female was surprisingly strong, and he didn't hate that perfume as much as he pretended. "Why do you want to go to that?" he snapped, pointing a finger towards some kind of ride in the distance, his face paling in anger at whatever hellish embarrassment awaited him. "And _stop_ that!" he shouted as Bulma leaned up on her tiptoes and planted a kiss on his cheek. His face flushed the moment he heard Kakarot snicker, and he took two faltering steps back from her and pursed his lips into a thin line. "You should know I don't like _sneak_ _attacks_!"

"Aw, c'mon, Vegeta, don't be like this, shit!" Bulma pulled apart and kicked at the curb, sticking out her bottom lip in a slight pout, disappointed. But then her surly expression softened slightly as the edges of her mouth turned upwards into a soft, hopeful smile that Vegeta secretly hoped was always aimed at him.

"Okay, but just hear me out and look at this!" she exclaimed, tugging on Vegeta's arm, and forcing him to remove his right hand from his coat pocket as she effortlessly slid her fingers into his own.

They fit together perfectly, snugly, like missing pieces of a human jigsaw puzzle. Vegeta sucked in a sharp breath of cool autumnal air at the unimaginable fiery heat that spiraled up his arm and traveled down his spine.

Bulma took a cautious step closer, waiting with bated breath for the Saiyan Prince's decision. "C'mon, Vegeta. Don't ruin this for me, please. I really don't think I'm asking you for that much. Goku holds Chi-Chi's hand," she snapped in a jealous tone as she glanced sideways out of the corner of her peripherals and wasn't disappointed to see Goku holding Chi-Chi's hand in an affectionate way, his dark eyebrows raised as he waited for the Prince of All Saiyans to react to Bulma's advances.

Vegeta felt a surge of anger course through his bloodstream at the smug triumphant look on his face as he watched. But Vegeta felt like his mind had gone blank.

The only thing he could focus on was basking in the Woman's warmth. He couldn't manage to make any kind of decision at all. He opened his mouth to argue vehemently with her, to say that he thought this was a _stupid_ custom, holding hands like this, but the words never left his mouth. His tongue felt thick in his mouth and it refused his words' release. Bulma took this as a positive sign and stepped even closer, her adorable pout having turned into a grin.

"See?" Bulma smiled, lowering her voice, seeming to have eyes only for Vegeta, ignoring Goku and Chi-Chi gawking at them from behind. "A little hand-holding won't hurt your pride, Prince. Your _dad_ sure enjoys it," she teased. "Just give it a shot. You might _like_ it."

Vegeta scowled, pulling a face, and tried to wrench his hand back away from Bulma.

" _Disgusting_ , Bulma, don't even joke about things like that, it's not fucking funny, Woman," he growled, a shadow of genuine anger flitting across his face as he could recall a couple of times the hungered look in his father's eyes whenever his father and his Woman happened to be in the same room together.

That clouded look of lust that suggested the Saiyan King—his own _father_ —held intentions towards _his_ future wife.

 _Father hates me,_ Vegeta thought, chewing on the wall of his mouth. _He still hates me, even after all this time. He will die from the hate in his veins, and he will leave this world likely hating me_.

But then another darker voice chimed in from the darkest corners, the recesses of his mind, taunting him, this snakelike voice. _You are sooo pathetic. Haven't you learned your lesson at all? The moment you leave for Yardrat, he'll take Bulma_.

His mind flared like a raging wildfire at that thought. _No. Father wouldn't do that to me_. He didn't just think highly of his future queen, Vegeta hypothesized. It felt like his mind was on overdrive. _Father wants her for himself if I can't get her pregnant_. _I just know he does_.

With this thought spreading through his mind like a plague, he shook his head to try to rid himself of his frenzied thoughts that weren't helping his already sour mood.

_It can't be. Even Father has his honor to protect. He couldn't. Father wouldn't. He's letting me take a human as my bride. He wouldn't try to steal her from me… would he?_

_But you're nothing in his eyes, fool,_ that demonic voice whispered into his pounding eardrums until all it left was a fatigued ringing the humans would probably call tinnitus. _He could cross you off without any sort of conscience or remorse and will take everything from you. He'll take your titles, your wife, strip you of your honor and your dignity. Everything_. _He wants your mate…_

A peal of murderous laughter resonated inside his mind that caused the mad beast within his chest to growl and roar its displeasure. It was then that he knew he couldn't fail Bulma.

He couldn't. The resolution in his mind took its toll on him then and there with Bulma, Kakarot, and Chi-Chi eyeing Vegeta quizzically. He could not fail this time, or it was sure to be hell unleashed on him as if Vegeta hadn't been feeling the heat of it yet from Lord Frieza.

"Vegeta?" Bulma's voice broke the Saiyan Prince out of his stunned stupor, causing him to blink owlishly until he came back to himself. Her thin blue eyebrows were knitted together in a worried frown, though she didn't press him for an explanation, which Vegeta appreciated more than he could possibly put into words, least of all in front of moronic Kakarot. "Just…hold my hand for a little while, and I _promise_ I won't go through with my plan to kiss you at the top of the Ferris Wheel," Bulma smirked, though her lip stuck out pleadingly as her grip on his hand tightened.

Vegeta's face drained of what little color was left as horror sliced through his stomach. He barely noticed that Bulma had started to pull him along the sidewalk, following Goku and Chi-Chi, who'd launched into their own animated conversation about something _stupid_ , no doubt, he observed bitterly and spitefully.

He fixed his Woman with a truly scathing look that would have wilted a fully bloomed rose as Bulma peeked back over her shoulder at him.

"I'm _not_ getting on that _ridiculous_ thing! Are you out of your _mind_ , Bulma?! Don't you know _anything_ of Saiyan royalty and honor? We don't subject ourselves to stupid pastimes like—" He cut himself off, suddenly aware of how Kakarot had turned around the moment Vegeta launched into his tirade of all his reasons not to do this and was staring at him with that shit-eating grin on his face, as though daring him to back out now. He remembered Bulma's words.

_Don't you want to prove to me that you can at least best Goku at this? That you can be a better partner and husband than Goku is?! Don't you?_

"Tch," he growled through gritted teeth, rolling his eyes as her words flitted through his mind. Well. When his Woman put it that way, she _did_ sort of have a point. But only kind of.

Bulma huffed in frustration, folding her arms across her chest. "Alright, so if the rides are off and the carnival food is off, then—"

"I didn't say _that_! You can put whatever you want into that trash mouth of yours, Bulma, see if I care what you eat!" Vegeta spluttered indignantly, his cheeks reddening as Kakarot and his wife had already made for the entrance, with Kakarot exclaiming in an excited voice about all of the various vendors' food booths.

Vegeta could feel his cheeks getting hot as he examined Bulma's expression she currently wore, searching her blue eyes for any hint of a lie that he was ruining this for his mate. But as he looked, he could find no trace of those emotions, any signs that she was angry with him.

So far, Bulma was being the unpredictable one, not so much Kakarot, which unnerved him. He grunted as he could tell Bulma was waiting for him to answer. "Besides, I'm not kissing you on this date, Woman, so it's not like it matters to me what you eat," Vegeta growled.

" _What_?!" Bulma's face paled and now she really did look shocked. "I don't even get a goodnight kiss from you, Geta, this is fucking injustice. I'm heartbroken. If I were still dating Yamcha, he would have kissed me at the end," Bulma complained, sounding genuinely hurt.

Vegeta rolled his eyes at the underhanded trick of his mate's, not falling for Bulma's tricks. "No, he fucking didn't," he growled, knowing his mate's former lover might be a scumbag, but even he wouldn't stoop that low.

"No! He fucking didn't, Vegeta!" Bulma huffed, annoyed, fiddling with the straps of her purse as she turned her gaze away from his and kicked at a passing rock with the edge of her knee-length black leather heeled boot angrily.

 _Shit_. He gnashed his teeth together in self-annoyance and a surge of hot anger. Vegeta was making things worse.

His Woman probably didn't even want to be on this date anymore, and Earth customs mandated when courting someone, you took them on a date. He'd promised himself he would know by the end of tonight after he'd spoken to Bulma's father what her feelings toward their pending marriage were.

She probably didn't even want to hold his hand anymore, which though Vegeta's pride would never let himself admit it, felt… _right_. He felt almost at peace and at home when holding her hand. But he figured he should give Bulma an out. Tell her they didn't have to stay on this date if Bulma would rather just quit this.

Prince Vegeta made to shrug out of Bulma's grasp, but to his surprise, her grip tightened, and she showed no signs of letting go. "I don't _think_ so, Vegeta. Your adorable future wife's not letting you off the hook that easily," she grinned, shooting him a furtive wink that sent his heart leaping into the pit of his belly and it felt like there was a gag on his tongue when he opened his mouth to speak.

But fucking Kakarot, as always, ruined it.

"Guys, guys! Where d'you think we should _start_?" Kakarot's shrill, excited voice carried from behind them. "Ooh, there's the maple sugar ice cream stand? Or over there, there's a guy selling that fluffy pink stuff. What did you say it was called, Bulma?" he called out.

"Cotton candy," grinned Bulma, rolling her eyes at her best friend's excitement and his overall chipper and child-like demeanor, though she knew Goku couldn't see it, as her back was turned towards Goku, still facing Prince Vegeta.

She never reverted her gaze from Vegeta's, who felt like he was blushing maddeningly under the intensity of her staring. It scorched his insides, but not in a bad way. He could already tell by the set look of determination and resolve upon his mate's pretty features there was no getting out of this.

Vegeta opened his mouth to speak but didn't get a chance as Bulma addressed Kakarot.

"And I think we should probably find Gohan and Tarble before we check out any of the food booths. I told them we'd meet them by the information booth at six, so let's head there first," she announced, pausing to look down to check her cell phone before plunking it back into her purse and zipping it closed, lifting her gaze, and smirking at Vegeta's look of shock and abject horror as he realized his younger brother and Kakarot's brat was tagging along tonight.

" _What_?" he growled in a dangerously quiet and low voice. "You told me nothing of this. Tarble and Kakarot's _brat_ are coming too?"

Bulma turned on her heels and shot him a withering look of irritation before something in her blue eyes softened. He swore she smiled at him. "Yeah. It's a _carnival_ , Vegeta. It's open to the public. They can tag along if they want to."

She shot him another questioning look and strangely, the tense atmosphere surrounding the two of them dissipated just like that. Vegeta exhaled a tense breath of air through his nose and rolled his neck to crack it, slowly but surely relaxing back into holding Bulma's hand, but not without a scoff first.

"Tch. I still think this is a waste of time."

"Just humor your bride, Vegeta," Bulma snapped as she gave his hand a light, reassuring little squeeze. Vegeta let out a barely audible hiss of air through his clenched teeth, suddenly aware of just how much he wanted the Woman to do that for the rest of their lives together.

To hold his hand and let him sink into eternity by her side and to have Bulma never let him go.

As they approached the information booth, Bulma again tried to smooth talk Vegeta into going onto that stupid ridiculous wheel contraption the humans called a Ferris Wheel, but Vegeta staunchly refused, holding his own.

"No _way_. Not on the first date. Not _now_ , and not _ever_ , Woman, so get it out of your head. I would rather _die_ first than get on that _ridiculous_ contraption riddled with diseases and gods only _knows_ what else. Besides, I can _fly_ , Woman, have you forgotten? I can take you anywhere you want to go if you want a high vantage point, why do you want to ride that revolting thing that's riddled with germs?" Vegeta hissed, warily eyeing the somewhat intimidating contraption and more to the point, embarrassing, as he almost roughly tugged Bulma towards the information booth to catch up with Kakarot, his wife and brat, and Tarble.

Bulma craned her neck up to look at Vegeta, who was barely taller than her by an inch or two.

"So, there's gonna be a _second_ date?" his Woman asked hopefully, one hand wrapped around Vegeta's, the other pausing to ruffle Gohan's hair as the two approached the gang.

Vegeta opened his mouth to answer, though was interrupted by the sound of Kakarot swiping a huge cotton candy stick out of his son's hands and taking a bite, scarfing it down with no semblance or regard for any manners.

"If I don't _kill_ Kakarot before the night's out, then yes," Prince Vegeta conceded slowly, hardly daring to believe he was caving into this woman's demands.

"You mean it?" Bulma breathed.

He nodded. "You want to play like that, Bulma, _fine_ , then let's _deal_ ," he growled, scrunching his nose in disgust, pulling a face of revulsion at Kakarot's eating habits and instead looked towards Bulma, a much prettier and far welcoming sight. "I will continue to abide by your ridiculous Earth customs and take you on these 'dates' following our marriage, but don't bring _him_. And on the second condition, you follow a few _Saiyan_ traditions as well," he bargained with her.

As if to emphasize his point, he jerked his thumb over his shoulder towards Kakarot, who was polishing off the last of his son's sweet treat.

"Uh. Yeah. There's always that," she grinned, her hand tightening around Vegeta's, as if the Saiyan Prince might bolt and fly off at his first opportunity. Which was total bullshit, despite Vegeta's discomfort on being out on a date, at least with everyone else in tow. Vegeta liked spending time with Bulma. But what he wanted the most, was time _alone_ with her.

It felt natural. The most natural thing he'd ever felt, which was saying something, and to have the others around felt an invasion of his privacy.

"Besides," he growled in a low voice as he leaned in to whisper it into the shell of his Woman's ear, something for her ears only, though he was sure Piccolo could hear it, the green pointy-eared _hobgoblin_ had the sense to shut up and keep it to himself, "You're stuck with me, Woman," he whispered in a gruff, rough voice as his hand lowered and wound around her waist before he allowed his teeth to graze over the markings on her neck where he'd claimed her as his.

He blanched as Bulma left a kiss on his temple, having to lean up on her tiptoes to do it.

" _Hey_!" Vegeta roared, taking a staggering step backward, his face flushed red in anger. "Didn't I tell you to stop doing that shit?! You know I hate your _sneak_ attacks, Bulma!" he cried.

He didn't know how it happened, but before he could argue with her again to cut it out, Bulma's lips were pressed against his, and then she was kissing him, and it took the Prince of All Saiyans approximately three point eight seconds for Vegeta to realize he kissed her back. It was rushed, hot and desperate, but Vegeta could feel the heat scorching his cheeks and the care and the love and knew he was right.

She _did_ care for him, then. And when Vegeta felt his hands move of their own accord as he cupped his Woman's face with trembling hands, he couldn't believe he'd realized it right from the very start, that she was _his_ mate.

No one else's. _His_. Just his. She broke apart first, holding him at arm's length and panting for air.

Bulma shot him a wink that sent the fiery ache to his loins, and if they were not in public, he probably would have taken her in his arms and ravaged her right there on the ground, not giving a damn what his Woman thought of him.

"I just can't help myself, Vegeta! You're just too _cute_ when you're angry!" she teased, relinquishing her ironclad, strong grip on Vegeta's hand and turning back towards the group. Gohan was eyeing Bulma with a look of shock, his lips agape, and Piccolo had covered Gohan's eyes, while Tarble was looking amused.

Vegeta flushed red in anger and embarrassment and looked away, clamping a hand over his mouth and grabbed his Woman by the hand and made to follow Kakarot and his wife, with Kakarot's mate saying she wanted Goku to win some kind of prize for Gohan.

Vegeta rolled his eyes to himself but did not relinquish control of Bulma's hand as their steps synced with each other's lengthy strides, though the brief conversation with Piccolo and Kakarot's brat reached Vegeta's pounding ears.

"Uh, M—Mr. Piccolo, what _was_ that?" came Gohan's slightly scratchy and hoarse tone.

"It was _nothing_ , Gohan," Piccolo barked in a voice that sounded to Vegeta as though he wasn't sure whether or not to be impressed or intimidated by Bulma's handling of Vegeta.

"Tch," Vegeta scoffed and rolled his eyes. Kakarot's little brat was just as naïve as his father, if not maybe more so due to his age.

He didn't even have to look behind him over his shoulder as he allowed Bulma to take the lead and guide him wherever they were going to imagine Kakarot's boy tugging on the green alien's sleeve of his dark blue uniform.

"But it looked like _something_!" Gohan protested, sounding like he was curious.

Piccolo's angry voice resonated within Prince Vegeta's eardrums as they followed Kakarot and his wife towards some booth.

" **IT WAS NOTHING, GOHAN**! **I'LL TELL YOU WHEN YOU'RE OLDER!"**

Vegeta inwardly groaned and rolled his eyes to himself. It was going to be a very long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised not all of this story is dark and angsty. There's a little Bulmgeta fluff sprinkled throughout, though the trick is writing it in a way that still keeps Vegeta in character and not straying too far from his grumpy self. 
> 
> Coming up, Goku wins Chi-Chi a carnival prize, and Vegeta takes it upon himself to out-do Kakarot, and Bulma discovers Vegeta's deepest, darkest secret: his irrational fear of worms. XD


	14. Chapter 14

**14**

**VEGETA** rolled his eyes to himself as Bulma halted in her tracks having followed Chi-Chi and Kakarot to some stupid booth that had caught Gohan’s eye as the brat trailed after his parents.

“This is a bunch of bullshit, Woman, a waste of an evening if you ask me, Bulma,” he barked hoarsely, wishing for nothing more than for his mate to change her mind and wish to leave. He would take her wherever the hell she wanted to go, as long as it was away from _Kakarot_.

“Calm down, Vegeta, you’ll give yourself a panic attack,” Bulma called to him over her shoulder for what had to be the tenth time as they wound their way through the crowded streets of the carnival’s fairgrounds. Bulma had no fucking room to talk, she was just as wound as he was.

She wouldn’t admit it, but he read her mind. She was worried as to what Kakarot had planned, what trouble he’d get them all into. He turned slightly at the waist as Bulma followed after Kakarot. Goku turned, squinting for something, and it took Vegeta a moment to realize he was surveying the other couples here.

Kakarot humming to himself was _never_ a good sign. It usually meant something stupid and ridiculous was about to go down. Vegeta groaned to himself. He was getting a splitting headache at whatever unknown thing Kakarot was planning to do. This all seemed a dangerous combination to the Prince of All Saiyans.

“What?” he heard Kakarot’s wife Chi-Chi ask her husband in a curious-sounding voice.

Vegeta scoffed and rolled his eyes to himself as Kakarot looked down his nose to Chi-Chi and offered her a wide and simpering grin.

“I’m gonna win you and Gohan one of those huge teddy bears,” he grinned, reaching up a hand to rub at the back of his neck gingerly. “Bulma, can I have a couple of Zeni for the game?”

“No, you’re _not_ , Goku!” Chi-Chi disagreed firmly, her face paling slightly in shock as her eyes widened as she took in the sight of just how huge all the different colored stuffed animals were that hung from the tops of the midway games like snakes dangling from branches, just waiting to be plucked off if you could win it. “Those things are _huge_! Where on earth would we put _two_ of them in the house?” she shrieked.

“Oh, c’mon, Chi-Chi! Let me do this for Gohan. It’s not often we get to spend so much time together. Just try to stop me, babe!” Goku grinned and darted away from her before his wife had a moment to react. Goku let go of Chi-Chi’s arm and sauntered towards one of the various booths vying for the Super Saiyan’s (and everyone else’s) attention.

Alarmed, Bulma shrugged out of Vegeta’s grasp and chased after Goku, quickly running in front of him to put two hands on her best friend’s chest, wanting to explain how the carnival games actually worked.

“Goku, you know you’re my best friend and I love you,” she stammered, not noticing how Vegeta’s face flushed red in anger and growing jealousy at her words, “But you really _shouldn’t_. All these stupid games are rigged. It's a scam and a total rip-off, that's how they get you. You’ll just be wasting your money. Or should I say _my_ money since you won’t get a _job_ ,” she grumbled angrily, pursing her lips in a thin line.

But Goku, Bulma quickly learned, wasn’t having any of it. He shot her a genuine smile and gently pried her hands away from his chest.

“Listen, Bulma, I appreciate the concern but I’m winning my wife and son a huge teddy bear, and nothing you can say will talk me out of it. You might as well just stand back, look cute, and watch a pro at work. Krillin taught me how these things work,” Goku grinned, cracking his knuckles. “If you watch, you might learn a little something, Bulma. You too, Vegeta. Gohan.”

With a wink and a smirk at Prince Vegeta’s flustered look of outrage at him calling Vegeta’s bride cute, Goku sauntered his way around Bulma, who could only turn and watch helplessly as Goku casually approached the game.

The object of the game? Use the softball to knock over three empty milk bottles, but Bulma knew better than this. The ball was probably filled with cork or something to make it lighter than it was supposed to be, and the bottles on the bottom of the stack were probably weighted down with lead to make them heavier. An impossible game to win, but she was admittedly curious to see how a Super Saiyan and his strength would handle it.

Bulma was tempted to head over to the balloon dart toss herself with its dull darts and half-inflated balloons, but she was curious, so she stuck it out.

If Goku was at all in tune to realize that the odds were not in his favor here, he never let on that he knew. Bulma begrudgingly dipped into her purse to fumble for her wallet and slapped a couple of Zeni into Goku’s outstretched and waiting hand and handed it over, though not before mumbling a few choice curses under her breath about Goku not getting a job. The man running the booth gave Goku and Chi-Chi an odd look, and then his gaze flitted to Bulma.

He popped a bubble with his pink gum and then offered Bulma a sweet smile just as she felt Vegeta nudge to stand beside her, their shoulders touching. “First date, you two?” he joked, his gaze flitting from Vegeta to Bulma.

Vegeta felt a surge in his temper flare at the disrespectful way this _punk_ was speaking towards his mate. The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could think about stopping it.

“Jackass. First time doing your _job_?” Prince Vegeta growled, firing back impatiently.

Bulma frowned. Was pissing everyone off part of Vegeta’s plan? He knitted his brows together in a frown and shoving his hands into the pockets of his coat. Vegeta had to strain to hear it, but he swore he heard his Woman let out a tiny groan. As he glanced at Bulma out of the corner of his gaze, he saw the Woman pinching the bridge of her nose with her manicured thumb and forefinger, as though getting a headache.

The attendant’s jaw tightened before he molded his features into a strained smile again. The man dropped three balls onto the stand and directed Goku to the stack of bottles on the left. Bulma didn’t like this one fucking bit.

She didn’t appreciate or like the knowing little look the stupid carnie was giving Goku, nor the way his eyes would occasionally crawl up her backside, causing Vegeta’s face to flush a blotchy red hue. Goku, naturally, remained completely oblivious to what was about to happen to him.

Bulma blinked owlishly as her best friend drew back his arm. She drew in a breath and held it, not even realizing she was squeezing onto Vegeta’s hand a fraction of an inch harder. She was more than a little surprised when the ball bounced right off the milk bottles. She almost opened her mouth to protest, considering that little pathetic display just proved Goku was concealing his true strength, _obviously_. But her best friend just turned, gave Bulma and Vegeta a self-satisfied and knowing little smirk. There was a mischievous glint in Goku’s eyes that Bulma recognized, causing her heart to drop.

“Oh, god, Goku, no, _wait_! _Don’t_!” Bulma cried out and made to launch herself forward, but Vegeta flung out an arm to stop her doing it.

_Don’t_ , he communicated to her gruffly in their shared impossibly telepathy as mates. _I want to see this. Let’s watch Kakarot make a royal fool of himself, Woman. After what he walked in on the other day, that nasty pervert deserves it, Bulma._

Bulma couldn’t be sure, but Vegeta almost sounded…amused. The corners of his lips twitched as he was working hard to fight against his bemused smile from showing on his face. Bulma blinked and turned back her head around to face the front just in time to see Goku heft his arm back and throw the ball as hard as he could possibly throw it. Not _only_ did the Super Saiyan succeed in knocking down the three balls, but he also managed to take down the entire tent and sent the vendor booth flying through the air, where it collided with another vendor, an old man selling caramelized apples, and almost killed the poor old man as he had to duck to avoid one of the poles hitting him on the head.

Bulma flinched as the vendor whose booth Goku had more or less destroyed flew into a rage, while Goku chuckled and asked which prize he was able to pick out from what was left scattered on the ground by the group’s feet.

“ **WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT? YOU—YOU DESTROYED MY TENT, BUDDY! I’LL SUE YOU, YOU ASSHOLE**!” the vendor started rambling at Goku, who was shooting the frazzled attendant a sheepish grin and rubbing at the back of his neck gingerly.

The man removed his baseball cap and threw it on the ground, stomping on it in a fit of rage, his face mottled crimson with his anger.

Vegeta looked like he was on the verge of erupting into a bout of hysterical laughter at Kakarot’s humiliation, though his good mood plummeted when he felt Bulma shrug out of his grasp and calmly step forward, slinging the strap of her bag off her shoulder and pelted the vendor booth attendant across the face with it.

Vegeta felt Goku nudge beside him, gaping at Bulma in a look of shock and minor amusement as the pair of Saiyans swore they heard a couple of bones in the guy’s nose crack. The owner staggered backward, bellowing like an enraged bull, and clutching at his nose while a flood of crimson leaked through his fingers.

Bulma started yelling. “Hey, you _asshole_ , that’s _bullshit_! We both know those bottles were weighted down! You’re lucky we don’t report your ass for conning all these people out of their hard-earned money! He hit those bottles fair and square and knocked them down, pal, so give him whatever prize he wants and get the hell out of here! And _you_ suing _him_? Don’t make me _laugh_! Maybe you don’t know who I am, buddy, but my _dad’s_ the owner of Capsule Corp, and I can easily have our team of lawyers fire your ass and everybody who works for this stupid carnival in like five seconds flat! We’ll take every last dime you’ve ever made at this shitty booth, pal, see if we don’t!” Bulma bellowed, what little color was left in her already pale features, drained, giving her a pallid look.

Vegeta gaped, his mouth dropping open in shock as Bulma’s resonating shouts lingered through the square and around the growing crowd of people who were watching this little dramatic scene unfold. He’d have thought his mate would have more class and tact, considering her background, though she was quickly proving her feisty temper to him….and he could not be more aroused and speechless.

_He’s losing his mind…Kakarot’s insane! Ugh, somebody just kill me, please. I want to die if I have to spend even another minute in his insufferable company._

He cringed as he once more felt the familiar ache whelm in his legs as he caught Bulma staring at him questioningly between them and he forced his mind to think of something else, though Vegeta’s eye twitched with ire and agitation at the thought of fucking Bulma once he got her alone until his mate was screaming his name and could barely walk after.

“No, m—ma’am, wait, _wait_ , lower your voice and put down your damn bag! Please don’t hit me again!” he whimpered, shielding his face with his arms while still trying to stem the bleeding from his nose, which had now been twisted into a grotesque picture, horribly to the right, thanks to Bulma hitting him a solid blow with her purse. “I—I’ll…wh—what do I gotta do to make you assholes go away and _leave_?” the carnie pleaded desperately, blood flowing down both his nostrils and staining his black and red carnival employee polo shirt. “Just _go_ _away_ …”

Goku inhaled a deep breath as he stepped forward, much to Chi-Chi’s embarrassment and chagrin. He glanced down at the pile of stuffed animals that had fallen off their hanging racks when he’d thrown the ball at the bottles and sent the tent flying.

He grinned and scooped up two huge pink and purple teddy bears that were bigger than Gohan. While Goku could handle them, it looked like they were going to have trouble getting them through the front door of their little home in the mountains.

Bulma snorted, though she let out a startled squeak as Goku used the edge of his boot to kick a bright blue and black one in her general direction that matched the color of her and Vegeta’s hair.

“Here you go, Bulma, this guy’s for you,” Goku grinned, before he turned back to the attendant and shot the vendor owner a slightly apologetic look, though as he turned back to face the fuming carnival attendant, he completely missed Vegeta swiping the oversized blue and black teddy bear out of his outstretched hands, a maddeningly red blush setting his cheeks ablaze.

Vegeta grumpily shoved the bear at Bulma’s chest, actively averting his Woman’s gaze, thinking he wouldn’t be caught dead holding a stuffed animal, but at the same time, wanted to do right by Bulma, and he was not going to let fucking Kakarot give his mate a prize she had rightfully won by putting the booth owner in his place. And breaking his nose too, though Vegeta had a _different_ sort of reward for her in mind later when the two of them were alone together.

Vegeta was very nearly reaching his limit, and he thought if he didn’t do something about it if he and the Woman did not leave the carnival and soon, he might just explode.

“Let us take these guys home with us, and I’ll walk away right now. You won’t see us again, mister, we’ll leave you alone,” Goku said.

The attendant seethed and gnashed his teeth together, a muscle in his jaw twitching as he glanced back over his shoulder and looked at the ruined remnants of his carnival booth. He looked more than a little fed up. “Just take the damn teddy bears and get the hell out of here! I don’t get paid enough for this shit!”

Goku grinned. “Oh, thank you, mister!” With a flourish, Goku innocently bowed towards the attendant and turned away, hefting the bears on his shoulders and began to head towards the carnival’s parking lot, seeing how late it was getting. He quickened his pace, Chi-Chi and the rest following behind, with Gohan and Tarble exclaiming how awesome that display just was just in case the irate attendant changed his mind, though they all doubted it.

The group went their separate ways once they reached the parking lot, with Goku struggling to balance both teddy bears and support both Chi-Chi and Gohan on the Nimbus.

“Hey, gimme a second, Bulma, like five minutes, and I’ll be back. Let me just take these guys home. I got something I want to give you!” he chirped, grinning, and chuckling a bit at the stupefied look on both Bulma and Vegeta’s faces.

“Huh? Goku, you…you _seriously_ got me a gift? For real? A—a _gift_?” Bulma stammered awkwardly. This was admittedly a first. Goku had never given her a present before, like ever.

Goku nodded. “Yeah. The Ox-King said I should get you a wedding gift since you’re one of my best friends, Bulma! Just gimme like five minutes to get these guys settled in back at home and I’ll be back. You two don’t mind sticking around here, do you? Just a minute…”

“Tch,” Vegeta scoffed, rolling his eyes. “I told you, Kakarot, it’s just _time_. Not like it _means_ anything to us. We’re Saiyans. I could wait here for another hundred years if I needed. But make it fast, whatever you want to give Bulma. I don’t want to look at your ugly mug any longer than I have to. I just might _puke_ ,” Vegeta growled meanly, lowering his voice, turning away from him, and instead of fixating his gaze on his Bulma.

“Okay, see ya Vegeta! Five minutes!” he called out over his shoulder, completely missing the Saiyan Prince’s quip. Vegeta spluttered and stammered, an odd, strangled noise escaping his lips as he gaped open-mouthed after Kakarot.

The fading silhouette of Kakarot and his family on that stupid little flying cloud of his quickly vanished from their line of sight until it was just Vegeta and Bulma in the parking lot.

Tarble had ventured back into the carnival with his wife Gure to explore more of the event, leaving his big brother alone in the lot with his mate. Bulma and Vegeta took advantage of the moment alone to put a little distance between themselves and the carnival, walking until it was a dim noise in the night. The air was nice, the cool October air still warm enough that Bulma didn’t manage to get cold.

In fact, Bulma felt hot. Her cheeks were flushed and stiff from smiling, and her heart wouldn’t stop pounding in her chest. She looked over at Vegeta, who looked unsurprisingly stoic. She couldn’t figure out why everybody thought Vegeta was so uptight and stiff. He wasn’t all that bad.

Sure, some of his jokes were an acquired taste, but he’d still proved to be fun.

Plus, there was something about her future husband that Bulma couldn’t quite put her finger on. She squinted in the dark at the Saiyan Prince, trying to figure Vegeta out in her mind, but before she could work it out in her head, the Prince spoke up in a low, grave tone.

“You’re breathing strangely, Bulma. And you’re shaking,” he barked in his usually cold tone, though Bulma swore she caught a hint of a foreign emotion underneath. Almost an emotion akin to concern. “Is it from those stupid _cancer_ sticks? Is this something I'm going to have to be concerned about with you?” he growled, a dark look flitting across his slightly tanned face as he thought of her smoking habit that she promised him she’d quit.

Bulma’s face flushed high with color. She was grateful it was mostly dark outside by this point, and she hoped Vegeta couldn’t see it.

She hastily shifted her purse to her other arm to give her trembling hands something to do. Today was her first day going without a pack of smokes, and to say that she was jittery was something of an understatement. Her body craved the nicotine, and she felt skittish almost.

“N—no,” she stammered, swallowing down hard past the lump in her throat as she swore Vegeta’s dark eyes narrowed until they were slits. It was clear he doubted her words. “I—I’m going to be _fine_ , Vegeta. I promise. My parents are gonna watch out for me when I get back. Make sure I don’t…go into withdrawals.”

And this much was truer still. She’d announced to her dad and mom as of this morning she was quitting smoking, and thankfully, Vegeta had agreed to let her stay at Capsule Corp until their wedding to allow her parents to monitor their daughter’s condition.

Bulma didn’t know what she expected of her Saiyan Prince, but it definitely wasn’t to feel his strong hands snake their way around her waist, squeezing onto her hips painfully tight. The Prince’s next words coming from his gruff baritone voice startled Bulma so badly she almost dropped her oversize huge turquoise and black teddy bear.

“My parents ignored me growing up for the most part. Too busy trying to rule other planets to care about their children. I wonder what’s _worse_. Caring too much or not giving a shit at all?” Vegeta hissed.

“I…” Bulma stammered, raising her eyebrows in alarm as she stared up at Vegeta in amazement. How anybody could ignore the sexy Saiyan Prince was beyond Bulma’s ability to comprehend, and not just because he was so fucking loud and rude and abrasive most times.

Bulma squeezed tightly onto Vegeta’s hand, now that they were alone, even if it was just for five minutes, he seemed more at ease, more relaxed, and seemed to relax into her handhold. If they really were soulmates, or bond mates or whatever the Saiyans called this ‘thing’ that seemed to be happening between the two of them, Bulma silently vowed that she would never let her Prince feel like he was being ignored. And even if they weren’t, then they—

Bulma let out a yelp as Vegeta pulled her aside, and Bulma gave the Saiyan the benefit of the doubt, though she felt a stab of uncertainty when Vegeta pulled them between two buildings, into an alleyway, where not even the nearby flickering streetlights ahead could illuminate them. She felt her face drain of color.

But then Vegeta roughly pressed her against a cold brick wall, and Bulma forgot all about her uncertainties. Bulma was so startled that she dropped the stuffed bear that was almost as big as the two of them as Vegeta took Bulma’s face in his hands, and she began to panic a little, her heart racing wildly inside her chest.

What the hell did Vegeta think he was doing?!? Hadn’t he mentioned earlier how he wouldn’t kiss her on a date? Or had Vegeta just been addressing that, yeah, he remembered that Bulma had wanted Vegeta to kiss her? Did he even _like_ doing it? Before she could let herself freak out too much, Vegeta leaned forward, pressed his forehead against Bulma’s, and just held her in silence, the piercing intensity of his black narrowed eyes burning a hole in her skull.

“You clever, _scheming_ Woman, you,” Vegeta growled, his voice low and husky, heavy with desire, as his gaze briefly flitted towards the oversized blue and black teddy bear sandwiched in between them. He stifled a growl in his throat as he resisted the urge to kick the damn thing out of his way, as it was the only barrier between him and his Woman. “You did that for _you_ , _didn’t_ you?” he snorted, almost sounding entertained.

“What? Did what?” Bulma whispered, feeling her heart hit such a frantic tempo, she was almost surprised that it hadn’t stopped.

The shocking intimacy and surprising gentleness of the gesture from the arrogant Prince were so unexpected, Bulma had no clue how to handle it or Prince Vegeta at this moment. Swallowing thickly past the lump in her throat, she reached up hands to intertwine them around Vegeta’s thick neck, her delicately manicured fingers sifting through his thick strands of wild jet black hair.

Vegeta… _smiled_. Bulma blinked, startled at this change in her fiancé. His eyes remained closed, so much more serene, and quiet, almost seeming…at peace. More than Bulma could have imagined.

“You were _jealous_ Kakarot won that stupid bear for his wife, so you caused a scene to get the dumb attendant to give _you_ one, too.” He didn’t sound angry with her, but Vegeta sounded incredibly smug and certain of himself. Bulma was at a loss for how to respond. Just when Bulma felt she could finally relax a little bit, Vegeta opened his mouth. “It was clever, Woman. Admirable. I liked seeing that side of you. What are you naming it?” he growled at her, startling Bulma badly.

“N— _naming_ it?” Bulma squeaked, suddenly feeling dizzy and rather breathless. “Uh, I don’t know. What _should_ I call it?”

Vegeta smirked at the actual confusion he saw in his Woman’s eyes. He pulled back slightly, though his arms shot up to grasp both of Bulma’s shoulders as he looked down his nose at the ground where the huge black and turquoise teddy bear that was almost as big as the two of them rested in between them both.

“Huh. It has our hair color.” Vegeta snorted and rolled his eyes to himself. Bulma smiled shyly at Vegeta, though he missed it as he looked at the bear. “Something strong, obviously,” he emphasized as if the answer should have been obvious to Bulma. He continued, sensing his mate’s confusion. “If it’s going to be in our bedroom as a token of this strange night and serve as a memory of your stupid Earth customs of dating, then give it a Saiyan name, not something dumb,” Vegeta muttered, his gaze flitting from the bear and then back to Bulma. “Well? What’s its name?”

Bulma glanced down at the stuffed teddy bear, her blue eyes widening in shock and awe. Yet another conversation with the Saiyan Prince she never thought she would be having. She wracked her brain for a name as she lifted her gaze and gave Vegeta a sweet smile.

“I think I’ll call him _Yamcha_ ,” she joked.

Her Prince’s facial expression immediately deadpanned and a muscle in his jaw twitched. “Don’t you fucking _dare_ , Woman. That’s not its name, so stop calling it that,” he growled. “I will take Kassava back, and you’ll only see this stupid bear every other holiday,” he hissed.

Bulma almost laughed as she raised her eyebrows in alarm. She was beginning to half enjoy this side of the tough Saiyan warrior. She’d never actually imagined him making a joke, or that he was capable of being sort of…

Sort of… Bulma paused to look up to see Vegeta staring at her with a shocked and slightly annoyed expression on his tanned face, almost like a child whose sweet treat had been snatched away from him and he was due for a scolding. His black eyes sparkled with a foreign earnestness that was unlike the Prince, and for a moment, Bulma almost thought it looked… _sweet_. Yes, sweet. She had no other word to describe it.

That was the word she had been searching for. Never in a million years was that a word she would ever use to describe the man currently standing in front of her, waiting for her to answer. Bulma smiled. She couldn’t help it. “What kind of name is _Kassava_?” she snorted, relishing the look of shock on his face.

“One of the oldest and most ancient names of our great Saiyan race, it’s a highly respectable name, Bulma. Much better than _Yamcha_. Why would you want to name this thing after a pathetic _loser_ who couldn’t even keep his woman?” Vegeta snapped haughtily, pulling a face, and looking offended that she did not seem to like the name he’d picked out to bestow on the memento she’d won, and even liked less mentioning Bulma’s ex-boyfriend in the same breath.

His hackles almost raised in annoyance. Bulma swallowed, her cheeks becoming flushed with a slight fury. Just because she was no longer with Yamcha didn’t mean she was going to tolerate the man getting disrespected.

But she couldn’t manage to find the words to say anything. How could she tell Vegeta what was on her mind? That they really were a fucking match made in heaven, as dysfunctional as their sort-of-relationship was proving to? As temperamental as they both were, Bulma suspected no other man would be good enough, as she thought no other woman would be willing enough to put up with his surly moods and his crap from time to time.

Luckily, she didn’t have to. Vegeta must have realized it for himself, or he’d probed into her mind just now.

Plus, Bulma thought she saw it in the way that Vegeta was currently eyeing her and felt it in the way Vegeta’s hand shot out and wound its way around her thigh, pulling her close to him, causing her to almost stumbling over the bear. And Vegeta didn’t fucking wait to take what he wanted.

“Woman,” he breathed hoarsely, and then he was kissing Bulma, taking back his promise not to kiss her on their date.

It was clumsy, hot, and desperate, but Bulma could feel the scorching heat and the care and the unspoken affection, perhaps even the beginnings of some stronger emotion, and knew that whatever they were feeling, it was _right_.

Bulma reciprocated his kiss by cupping Vegeta’s face with trembling hands, swallowing the moan that threatened to escape her throat. The kiss they shared was a secret moment hidden away from the rest of the world, an unspoken acknowledgment of a powerful bond.

If only Bulma could have known there were still other forces at work who wished to tear them apart, though such a thought was the furthest thing from her mind as Vegeta broke apart first, gasping and panting for air. Bulma froze as she looked at the Saiyan Prince in awe.

“Wh—what?” she stammered, though he shushed her and closed his eyes, seeming to be straining to hear something. “What’s wrong?”

“ _Hush_ , I heard something,” he barked in a gruff voice that came out harsher than Vegeta might have liked, for his Woman flinched away in hurt and surprise. “Listen. Be quiet. Don’t you hear that?” Bulma did as Vegeta advised and fell silent, closing her eyes and straining to hear whatever it was the Saiyan Prince heard with his heightened senses that she apparently, couldn’t.

Then, she _felt_ it. A shaking. A tremor of the ground beneath her feet as the ground started to shake and crumble beneath their feet.

“Wh—is this an _earthquake_? _What the fuck_?” Bulma shrieked, making a mad scramble for the bear, just as Vegeta shot forward and wound his arms around her neck and took to the sky with her momentarily, just enough to get them out of the alleyway and back into the carnival’s parking lot, where the light from the streetlamps would at least let them see better.

“Hey, Vegeta! Bulma! I thought I'd find you guys still out here!” came the shrill cry of Goku from the air beside them, eliciting a startled scream from Bulma, whose hands shot out and instinctively wound around Vegeta’s neck, clinging to him for safety and security.

“ _Goku_ , it took you long enough! What the fuck **IS** that?!? Are we under an _attack_ or something?” Bulma screamed, her face reddening in anger as a hole in the street below them caved in and the ground widely opened up.

“Huh?” Goku blinked owlishly at the scene before them as the three of them landed back on solid ground again. Judging by the look of confusion on Kakarot’s face, Vegeta could tell the other Saiyan had no idea what was happening. “What’s—” he started to say, though a startled yelp left his lips as a huge, grotesque creature emerged from the hole in the ground.

Bulma _screamed_. Vegeta’s face paled in shock and disgust as he gaped at the grotesque beast that emerged from the ground, up to 30 feet long and 6 feet across at its widest point, the creature looking like it weighed 40 tons.

“ _Wow_! I’ve never seen anything like this, Bulma, Vegeta, have you guys? It’s _huge_!” Goku laughed, sounding almost _excited_ at the prospect of taking on a giant alien worm that was almost as tall as a bus. “Do you think this thing will get any _bigger_? Now that’s what I call a _worm_!”

Bulma let out a terrified squeak as Vegeta’s shouts resonated in her eardrums. She couldn’t be sure, but she swore her Saiyan Prince almost sounded… _terrified_.

One look at his face as Bulma craned her neck to see was more than enough for her. There was no doubt about it.

The Prince of All Saiyans, one of the strongest fighters in the universe, was scared of worms. His face had paled, his lips agape in shock, and his complexion had turned an interesting shade of pale green. It looked like he was going to be _sick_.

“ **DISGUSTING! NO, I DON’T EVEN WANT TO IMAGINE HOW BIG THIS SLIMY DISGUSTING THING GETS**!” Vegeta bellowed angrily, though even in his anger, his voice trembled. “ **JUST BLAST IT**!”

But Goku made no such move to take care of the creature, seemingly transfixed as it roared. “Huh.” He scratched his head. “I didn’t know worms could make that sound, did you?”

That was the breaking point of Bulma’s patience and her sanity. She _screamed_ , tugging at the roots of her short bright blue pixie in protest. “ **HOLY SHIT! GOKU, WHAT IS THAT THING? KILL IT, KILL IT! DO IT NOW BEFORE IT KILLS US ALL! GOKU!** ” Bulma screamed, her blue eyes widening in shock and horror as a huge sandworm-like creature emerged from the ground. It looked like something in those old horror films her dad liked to watch on the weekend, the _Tremors_ movies. Or take it a step further and calling it a cross between one of those worms and the sandworm from that old movie, _Beetlejuice_.

“How should _I_ know? We live on a planet inhabited by _dinosaurs_ , Bulma, it could have come from _anywhere_! I don’t know what it is!” Goku shouted over the reverberating noise of the creature’s roaring. “But we gotta take care of it here before it wrecks this place. Stand back!” he yelled, turning to Bulma and Vegeta, who didn’t hesitate to stagger backward as Goku transformed into a Super Saiyan, the whooshing rush of air as Goku’s black hair transformed from black to blonde and his dark irises shifted to their pale blue color whenever he summoned this much energy rustled Bulma’s bangs off of her forehead.

As he stood and assumed a defensive stance, Bulma was shocked and more than a little amazed to see Goku was… _smiling_.

Bulma felt a surge of confusion flood through her system, though her hope that Goku would take care of this creature was greater.

_Only Goku would get excited about fighting a giant worm_. She blinked and came back to herself once she felt Vegeta’s strong hands grip onto her arm, as much as to prevent her from taking a step forward as to steady himself. She felt him shaking. She shook her head to clear her mind as she heard Goku start to shout and summon his Kamehameha.

“ _Yes, Goku, that’s it, get him! Max out the power of Super Saiyan God and blow this thing to smithereens! Kill it,_ _kill it now!_ ” Bulma shouted in a shaking but encouraging voice, raising her fist in the air to pump it as she watched Goku position his hands to form the electrifying blast of one of his Kamehameha Waves that was sure to take care of it. She would have said more, though she heard Vegeta from behind make an odd, strangled noise at the back of his throat as he darted forward, clamping a hand over her lips, though whether it was out of annoyance for encouraging Goku or not wanting her to make enough noise to attract the creature's attention her way, Bulma didn't know, she _did_ know this. He was… _shaking_.

Bulma squeezed her eyes shut in preparation for the harsh blow that always followed one of Goku’s Kamehameha’s, though as she did, she heard a strange sound followed by what sounded like a watermelon hitting a sidewalk and breaking into a dozen pieces.

Before Bulma could open her eyes to see what happened, she felt a warm, gooey, jelly-like substance rain down on her. "Eugh, **GOKU YOU MORON! HOW COULD YOU MESS UP WITH THAT? I SAID KILL IT, NOT BLAST US BOTH WITH ITS INTESTINES! THIS IS SO DISGUSTING!** " she shrieked, not wanting even to open her eyes to look to see what she was covered in, her new sweater dress now ruined, to say nothing of her bag and her brand-new black leather boots.

She heard Vegeta inhale a sharp breath of cold air and start to gag.

She could guess what it was, as she could no longer hear the roars of the giant space worm, and really didn’t want to see it, but she knew she was going to have to come back to reality sooner or later. Keeping her arms shielded in front of her face, as she opened her eyes, Bulma saw a thick greenish mucus-like substance exploded all over the carnival’s parking lot.

The disgusting gunk covered Vegeta as well, who was staring at Kakarot and Bulma with what could only be described as a look of concern mixed with shock and disgust etched on his face. His face was fully green now.

It was honestly a miracle Vegeta hadn’t started puking, though he looked like he wanted to. He clamped a hand over his mouth, still gagging.

“Ugh, Kakarot, I think I’m going to _puke_ ,” he growled, turning away, his hand shooting out to brace himself against the wall, dry heaving, and gagging, but nothing was coming up. As Bulma stared back at her best friend and did her best to ignore the disgusting sticky greenish shit she and Vegeta were covered in, she felt a look of shock form on her face as Goku dug into the pocket of his orange and blue uniform and pulled out a tiny, wrapped box and handed it to her, grinning cheekily, before bringing his lips to his mouth and whistling for the Flying Nimbus.

“I’ll, uh, let you open that after you guys get cleaned up. I’ll swing by your parents’ place tomorrow?” he asked, still with that damned insufferable childlike grin on his face, ignoring Vegeta still gagging in the background at being covered in worm intestines, what was left of the creature from below the ground.

Without waiting for Bulma to respond, he waved the pair of them goodbye and sped off towards home, leaving Bulma to stare after Goku for a moment in shocked silence, thinking that, as far as first dates went, this one _definitely_ took the cake. She’d have a story to tell her children one day, that was for sure.

She let out a sigh and turned to Vegeta and outstretched her hand when it looked as though the Prince of All Saiyans had recovered from his bout of nausea, though his face was still green, and he looked more or less repulsed at being covered in the same sticky substance she was.

“Come on, Vegeta, we both look like shit. We need to clean up. Something tells you my dad won't give you his blessing if you show up in front of him covered in this shit,” she grinned, unable to help it, noticing how his face reddened in anger and he almost dry-heaved again.

She didn’t say this next part, but she _thought_ it, knowing full well he could hear her.

_Let’s go home_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up, Vegeta swallows his pride to confront Bulma's dad to ask his permission.


	15. Chapter 15

**15**

**IT** took two showers for both Vegeta and Bulma to fully remove the various bits of gunk from the worm that Goku had exploded out of their hair and off their body. Their clothes had gone through two sets of washing cycles before the stains came out. Even clean as he was an hour later with a change of fresh clothes, Bulma had given him a black polo shirt and a pair of khaki trousers, he could still feel a surge of adrenaline course through his veins at the fact that Kakarot had exploded a disgusting _worm_. He shuddered, but he’d be damned and die before he’d ever admitted his disgust for a slimy worm.

Dr. Brief’s stare burning a hole straight through him. Bulma’s father and the founder of Capsule Corp stood disdainfully across his family’s living room, a cup of steaming herbal tea in his hand, a lighted cigarette clamped in between his teeth as the edges of the old man’s white mustache twitched without prompting as he glared. Bulma’s father was a man of advancing years.

Vegeta could tell by the way the man’s white bushy brows furrowed together as he peered at the Prince of All Saiyans over the rims of his silver spectacles as they slid down the bridge of his nose, he was at least aware that something had happened on their date, considering Bulma had brought back the alien humanoid to their house, both covered in a sticky green substance that smelled truly repugnant.

The short withering scientist stood across the living room observing Vegeta with no small amount of scorn in his eyes. Vegeta scoffed and rolled his eyes. He was marrying Bulma whether the coot liked it or not. He was only here as Father mandated it.

Dr. Brief’s white hair and mustache framed his circled and sunken-in eyes behind his glasses. His eyebrows were furrowed with lines of what was undoubtedly deep distress. He’d undoubtedly spent the last several days in anguished despair of the condition of his beloved precious daughter.

Raising his eyes to Bulma’s father, Vegeta stifled his growl of impatience, wondering if the eccentric man was ever going to invite him to sit. He wondered if the offer would ever be extended at all.

Dr. Brief glowered at Prince Vegeta past the point of the Saiyan Prince’s comfort. He could almost imagine the thoughts running through his mind. Bulma’s father spoke up in a surprisingly gruff voice, diverting Vegeta’s attention, which had been previously fixated on Bulma’s backside while she helped her mother wash dishes in the kitchen.

His mind was clouded with lust and desire now that they weren’t covered in that disgusting shit. He squeezed his eyes shut as his stomach swooped and churned as visions of the giant underground worm exploding all over him and his Woman flitted through his mind. He’d rather _not_.

Bulma, sensing she was being watched, peeked over her shoulder in the midst of drying a plate and smiled at Vegeta before her mom dragged her off towards a room beyond his line of sight. Vegeta stood stock-still as long as possible, trying to glimpse his mate for as long as Vegeta was able to.

“Follow me, _Your_ _Highness_ ,” Dr. Brief commanded in a harsh bark, his voice dripping with avarice, diverting Prince Vegeta’s attention away from the spot where Bulma had stood a second ago.

The Prince of All Saiyans bristled, gnashing his teeth together, utterly seething. Who the hell did this pathetic weak Earth male think that he _was_?!?

He was Saiyan _royalty_ , for god’s sake. He was not used to being told what to do. The last time Vegeta had taken an order from another was technically from Father and Lord Frieza, and even then, both times, it hurt his pride to obey them both.

Vegeta swallowed past the lump in his throat and shoved down the annoyance surging within him. This was his Woman’s father, like it or not.

He was just going to have to learn to give this pathetic human man his accustomed authority here.

They walked in silence down a hallway until they came to Dr. Brief and Bulma’s lab. Dr. Brief swiped a keycard that granted him access as he swung the heavy double doors open once the keypad clicked and flashed green, stepping off to the side to a sideboard that ran nearly the length of one of the walls. Vegeta’s eyes glossed over at the sheer amount of bottles of alcohol that littered the shelves.

Dr. Brief took two wine glasses and filled them with a bottle of red wine. Vegeta decided to hang back and watch, studying the old man’s moves.

It didn’t take long for the Prince to ascertain that the scientist was trying to seem imposing and ominous, perhaps to warn him or try to size him up.

But it was a laughing joke, though there was a minuscule part of Vegeta that couldn’t blame him.

Vegeta stifled a growl of annoyance as he felt something claw its way up to his leg. He looked down, surprised to find a black kitten eyeing him curiously, holding his head like he was the born natural ruler of the universe, yet the wobble in its walk showed Vegeta the cat wasn’t yet in command of its own limbs. The black kitten mewed with the same newness that a newborn baby cried, high pitched yet still soft, unable to project the volume more developed lungs can muster.

Vegeta’s face blanched as his color drained as the little kitten clawed its way up to his pant leg, its claws digging into the material of his black shirt, not stopping until it settled on his shoulder.

“ _Hey_!” he barked in a rough and grating voice, sneering as he turned his head to the side to look at the cat. “Get this thing _off_ of me! What the hell does it think it’s doing?” Vegeta growled angrily.

“Mmm? Oh, that’s just Scratch,” Dr. Brief commented in a casual voice as he blew out a drag of his cigarette, turning his head so the smoke from his joint wouldn’t waft its way into Prince Vegeta’s face. “You should count yourself lucky, Vegeta. He doesn’t do that to just _anyone_. I think he _likes_ you,” he murmured, the corners of his mouth twitching as he turned around and handed Vegeta a wine glass.

“Tch,” Vegeta scoffed, his black eyes narrowing in suspicion as he huffed and folded his arms across his broad chest. He didn’t much care for animals, though whatever the little black kitten was doing to his shoulder, kneading it with its little claws, felt strangely _nice_ , working out the kinks from an earlier sparring session prior to his and Bulma’s botched date, so he shoved thoughts of the stupid cat aside and let it stay on his shoulder for now.

Vegeta stiffened as Bulma’s father lifted his chin to look at him with that same scrutinizing stare, which only fueled the growing cinders of ire in his blood. But again, he guessed he couldn’t blame him.

If he and the Woman ever had a daughter, he himself dreaded the day his daughter would bring home the miserably unworthy little cretin unworthy of winning a half-Saiyan’s heart. He supposed he was going to have to scare the shit out of the runts.

But the difference with the Prince, however, was that Vegeta was not afraid. He’d beaten and killed Nappa and Raditz for Bulma, he would kill Lord Frieza for her too, he’d fight her own _father_ too if need be, but Vegeta hoped it wouldn’t come to it.

Dr. Brief turned, crossing the walkway, and held out a glass to Vegeta, who took it with a nod of thanks, though he had no intention of drinking this liquid that would impair his ability to think clearly.

The two men spent a moment in rather uncomfortable and admittedly awkward silence before Dr. Brief turned away and spoke up in a casual-sounding voice with just a hint of curiosity.

“I hear you took my daughter to a carnival tonight, Prince Vegeta, is that true?” he announced judgingly as Vegeta awkwardly held his wine glass.

Vegeta very nearly swallowed his own tongue. On the way back, he had made Bulma _swear_ not to tell anyone here what had happened tonight, not between the two of them, and certainly not about the stupid fucking worm that erupted from the ground.

For once, perhaps the first time in the adult Saiyan Prince’s life, Vegeta’s fearless and bold swagger wavered in the presence of the scientist.

He studied Dr. Brief, almost agitated and restlessly.

What the fucking hell did he mean by _that_? Had the old man known that he’d already enjoyed every inch of Bulma, not once now, but even earlier in the shower, she had dragged him in with her to avoid using up all the hot water, and well…did he really need to say it? A mad blush speckled on his cheeks, though Dr. Brief gave him no time to ponder it as the shorter, stout aging gentleman puffed himself up to his full height and girth.

This was bloody _it_ , he was learning the true purpose behind the Saiyan’s interest in his Bulma.

Dr. Brief tried his hardest to hold his anger in check but was losing the battle. He’d seen how this man had been eyeballing his daughter’s back.

“So?” the scientist’s raspy voice barked as he threw back his head and drained the contents of his wine glass in one hearty swig, slamming his glass down on the counter beside him. “Prince, tell me this. What are you intentions towards Bulma? Are they noble? Honorable? Or is she nothing more than your whore?” he growled, hissing through his teeth. The founder of Capsule Corporation’s body shook with his silent fury. “Perhaps she’s already filled with a _bastard_ for you. As a man of noble blood, I should have known you were the type to sling women’s feelings about,” Dr. Brief condemned.

Vegeta’s hands curled into fists as he shoved them into the pockets of his trousers. How _dare_ the Woman’s own father shame her?!? His black eyes burned with the need for revenge against his words.

“ _How dare you_? You would speak of your own _daughter_ this way? Does your own flesh and blood mean _nothing_ to you? Bulma is no _whore_ ,” he barked in a rough and grating voice. “I’ll fight any man who says different. Even _you_ if I have to, mark my words and mark them _well_ , _doctor_ , because I won’t be repeating myself a second time,” he growled. Vegeta was so furious he had to keep his fists clenched and shoved in the pockets of his pants, lest he strikes out at Bulma’s dad in rage. If that happened, he’d kill him, and the last thing he wanted was his Woman pissed at him. He fumed.

He didn’t want to pummel the weak old man to his death. Bulma would surely _kill_ him for that.

“My companions, Nappa and Raditz, are not _worthy_ to walk in the same world as the Woman. Your _daughter_ ,” he quickly corrected, sensing Dr. Brief’s confusion out of the corner of his peripherals as his white eyebrows rose up in shock and alarm, so far up onto his forehead, they almost vanished into the man’s hairline. “I should have _killed_ them earlier before Raditz could dare to try to touch Bulma.”

His chest was heaving with a foreign emotion, a fiery heat creeping to his cheeks. It took the Prince a moment for him to realize that it was rage, what he felt as visions of his mate with another male flashed through the front of his mind until he saw only red.

Dr. Brief startled upon hearing the Saiyan Prince’s passionate words as he stepped back and regarded the man whom Bulma seemed to be infatuated with, whether or not she knew it herself.

No one had ever dared possess the audacity to speak to him in such a way before, except his Bulma. But this one, this Saiyan Prince, so far was the only man courageous or crazy enough to talk back. His protectiveness of Bulma quickly proved to Dr. Brief how fond the man was becoming of her, proof of the Prince’s honor. Finally, a man worthy of Dr. Brief’s daughter. A _much_ better choice than Yamcha. His blood ignited at the thought of him.

Dr. Brief raised his eyebrows in alarm and stroked at the edges of his white mustache, considering the situation while he searched for his words.

“You love my daughter, Prince, though your pride will never let you admit it, Vegeta.” His question was more of a statement of fact, rather than a query. Vegeta’s face flushed red in anger as he stammered and spluttered indignantly, trying to come up with a dozen and one retorts to deny his words, but all that came out was a strangled attempt at speech. He wanted nothing more than to wipe that smug smirk off of Bulma’s father’s face now.

“ _What_?!? I—I don’t—I never _said_ that!” he barked hoarsely, his blush deepening under the inspection of the famed scientist’s piercing gaze.

Though as his mind struggled to process her father’s words, he was forced to examine his feelings.

So…. was _this_ what it felt like, then? Never before was an exhilaration as great as the desire to return to his Woman’s side the minute she’d left the room. Was this what _love_ felt like? An emotion and a concept he’d always believed himself to sorely lack. An awful paradox of chaos and peace wallowing in his soul and his mind. Selfishness and obsession. To wake with the scent of her shampoo that smelled like apples wafting through his nostrils, to tease the limits of Bulma Brief’s hot-headed temper that rivaled that of his own. He liked Bulma that way. Headstrong, prickly, defiant, yet curious.

And it was a drive that kept Vegeta thrilled.

“To be honest, I… _like_ her feistiness,” he stammered, his tongue feeling thick in his mouth. “She’s surrounded by _fools_ all her life, it’s high time she was surrounded by one who is _not_ , I’ll kick the crap out anyone who calls her _names_ , including you, old man. Your daughter is an honorable woman,” Vegeta spat bitterly as visions of Yamcha, the perverted old man, Roshi, and of course, _fucking_ _Kakarot_ flitted through his mind. He gnashed his teeth together and forced his mind to return to the matter at hand. Not making a fucking fool of himself in front of the Woman’s dad. “She deserves the best.”

He was unable to keep the hint of smugness from seeping its way unbidden to the front of his tone.

“That she does,” Dr. Brief cautiously affirmed. He could scarcely believe he was even entertaining the idea of giving his blessing to this man, though the Saiyan Prince had just more or less assured his place in his Bulma’s life as far as Dr. Brief was concerned. And little Scratch didn’t just sit on anyone’s shoulder.

The Prince put up a gruff front though he recognized the familiar glint in his black eyes that were otherwise cold and listless. If Vegeta had asked, the founder of Capsule Corp would have given him his blessing then and there. Dr. Brief sighed as he pressed his lips together tightly, and then he parted them to speak.

“I’ll spare your _pride_ the troublesome task of _admitting_ it,” he answered in a gruff voice, chuckling at the odd strangled noise Vegeta made at the back of his throat. “There were a lot of things I could have done differently as a husband and a father to my Bulma. But I like to think that being there for Bulma made a difference in her life. The world around us is changing,” Dr. Brief said in a low, somber tone. “I don’t know how it will just yet, but the world that you and Goku and the others fight for, in this world, my Bulma will be right by your side. She cares for you, Your Highness. I hope you know that and make my girl happy,” he said somberly. “When you marry her, I don’t know how it is for you Saiyan alien types, but we _humans_ make a promise the night we marry our partners. A _promise_ to always stand beside her, and by extension, any children the two of you might have one day, Prince. Your child. The fact that you consider yourself woefully inadequate to have been gifted my Bulma’s love is exactly why I’m sure you’re the only man on this earth worthy of my daughter.” Dr. Brief’s eyes clouded over behind the lenses of his glasses as he lost himself deep in thought before he snapped back to himself and adopted what Vegeta guessed was supposed to be a stern and admonishing look that he had to try not to laugh at, finding it rather pathetic. “I hope you plan to protect my daughter.”

“I do. I can promise you that no one will hurt her as long as I’m alive. I will protect her with my own life, and our children, should we sire any together,” Vegeta answered in a gruff voice that cracked slightly as he summoned enough strength on his throat to answer, still hardly daring he was having this conversation. “How do I…ask? The _right_ way,” he managed to gasp out, though just forcing the words from his lips felt like it was causing his chest to tighten and constrict, causing him pain.

Thank God Kakarot wasn’t here to see the blush speckling along his cheeks and up to his ears.

“You lift your head, Highness, and look an old man in the eyes when you’re talking to him,” Dr. Brief ordered. Vegeta complied, wishing the old man would get on with it and tell him how to ask. “You have made the depths of your affection and growing love for my daughter abundantly clear. It’s in your eyes. You might not ever be able to say it to her, that damned pride of yours will be your downfall, boy, but I hope you will show my little girl how much you care for her. _Protect_ _her_. Always. I can say without any kind of reservation on my part that there’s no one else whom I would want my daughter to marry. No one is worthy of her, but you. I wholeheartedly give my blessing to this union. I mean, it’s sort of up to Bulma, but marry my girl.”

Vegeta ensured his face remained impassive and uncaring, though inwardly he allowed himself a moment to study the withered old scientist with awe. It was clear from where came Bulma’s caring and compassion. He’d not anticipated or expected her father to be so accepting of his growing affection and care for his daughter, nor had he dreamed following this stupid Earth custom for her hand would have been met with such a quick acceptance.

He found begrudging respect for Bulma’s father growing within him. Dr. Brief turned away from Vegeta for a moment carrying a small box.

Whatever it was that Dr. Brief held, it was small. “Perhaps this would make an appropriate offering,” he suggested. “Humans wear them when they’re married. Don’t worry, they’re made out of the finest tungsten this planet has to offer. Scratch-resistant, won’t bend as easily as other precious metals, and they’re relatively comfortable, so you can wear it under your glove on your ring finger even when fighting,” he quickly explained, handing the box out to Vegeta, chuckling as he noticed Scratch still resting on Vegeta’s shoulder, purring contently. The box was light under Vegeta’s fingers as he accepted it. Holding it still in one hand, he used his fingers of his other hand to flick the box open, revealing a set of plain black and royal blue wedding bands.

“How do I ask?” Vegeta barked.

Dr. Briefs merely chuckled and arched a brow and pointed at the wedding bands in the box before Vegeta huffed in irritation and snapped it shut, pocketing the little black box into his pants pocket.

His answer was clear.

 _Just ask_. _You already know she'll say yes._


	16. Chapter 16

**16**

**BULMA** stepped back and dug her manicured fingernails into the palms of her hands to stop the shakes. She hated to admit it, but she was definitely going through withdrawals. A sheen of sweat had started to throng along her forehead and her hands were shaking so violently it was a wonder she could even put the finishing touches on Vegeta’s armor.

To make up for the fact that Vegeta wanted her to quit smoking, she’d taken to chewing gum, chewing on the piece in her mouth harder than was perhaps necessary, as she felt her molars clack together in irritation. Even though she was fairly confident she was fucking up the Saiyan Prince’s armor more than advancing on it or putting the finishing touches on it, she kept messing around with it on the mannequin’s model, if only to give herself something to do so she wouldn’t think about the _worm_ , and she _didn’t_ refer to the one Goku killed.

_Am I really going to blow up Frieza and probably get myself killed_? The longer this thought plagued her mind, the longer Bulma worked to try to rid herself of her suicide mission, an attempt at murdering the bastard killed her friends, a mission she was sure not to survive, the more she chewed her gum, and the more of the tools she destroyed. Huffing in frustration, she threw aside one of her tools and slid down the wall in frustration, looking up at Vegeta’s newly finished armor with cracked and red-rimmed eyes. Finally.

After almost an entire day working on it, his new armor was finished. It was a light grey color, rather than the dark blue and white he favored.

She was getting _married_ tomorrow, and none of her family was allowed to attend for safety reasons. The biggest and one of the most important days of her life, however unorthodox her and Vegeta’s relationship was, and her own parents couldn’t even be there, because Frieza and his father were supposed to be in attendance. It wasn’t fucking _fair_.

Bulma swallowed thickly down past a lump in her throat, blinking back the onset of briny tears, thinking if her future husband were to walk in and see her like this, he’d call her a wimp or weak. She sniffed, reaching up a hand to flick away from her tears with a flick of her finger.

She couldn’t think right now. She was too preoccupied with feelings of guilt and regret at the worry she’d put her folks through.

With a frustrated groan, Bulma turned her head to the side and spit out her piece of gum into the trash can, raking her slender fingers through her short blue hair, resting her hands in her lap, trying her hardest to ignore how badly she was shaking.

“Son of a goddamned bitch,” Bulma grumbled darkly to herself under her breath as she snatched at the air after she’d thrown a screwdriver at the opposite wall, changing her mind at the last possible second and missing as it hit the wall. She left it where it landed, hoping she wouldn’t forget it.

Grinding her teeth in annoyance, Bulma rose to her feet and paced across her workshop’s floor before stumbling and falling against an old beaten up couch she’d stolen from one of her neighbors when moving in. not that she couldn’t buy a new one, but she didn’t want to waste good money on a brand new couch that was going to be her bed when she was too lazy to make her way to her bedroom after a night of working down here in the lab, but she so very rarely used it even for its intended purpose. She often opted to sleep just passed out at her desk or even sleeping in the middle of the floor.

She didn’t even sleep that long anyways.

“Woman,” came Vegeta’s gruff-sounding voice. “Here you are. I’ve been looking for you.”

“Mmm?” Bulma peeked open an eyelid from her spot on the couch, her legs draped over the armrest of the threadbare sofa she had stolen. “Man,” she greeted warmly, a teasing lilt to her voice now. She decided to let this go for now, though at some point she was going to have to remind Vegeta to call her Bulma more often, especially tomorrow when she was his wife. His _wife_. Just the thought was enough to cause her skin to crawl, but not with revulsion.

_When we’re husband and wife_ , she thought, opening both her eyes as a dark shadow cast over her entire body as Vegeta’s silhouette towered over her as he moved to hover in front of her by the sofa. With a groan, Bulma dragged herself upright into a sitting position and patted the cushion next to her. “What’s up, Vegeta? Is there something you—?”

But her voice trailed off as she heard Vegeta inhale a sharp breath of air that sounded like it hurt.

“What?” she stammered, suddenly feeling the heat creep to her cheeks as she sat up straighter, thinking something was wrong with her fiancé. “What’s _wrong_? What is it? Oh, that?” she breathed, following the Saiyan Prince’s gaze where he was looking in awe and a certain unidentifiable expression she couldn’t quite place in the man’s eyes as he was looking at his new suit of armor. “I—I hope that I got your measurements right. I—I made it for you so when you go off to Yardrat, your clothes won’t be so ratty and torn. I won’t be the _laughingstock_ of this universe or any others while you’re gone until you come back to me. You’re a _Prince_ of your race, Vegeta, you should dress like one.” Bulma chuckled a little at his stupefied look as he sauntered over, as if in a daze, reaching out with the pad of his fingertip to ghost along with his new grey, white, and yellow armored chest plate in surprise.

“It’s… _better_ ,” he admitted after a pause.

Bulma sighed. It was as close to a compliment as he could come. She would have settled for a ‘thank you,’, but this was as good as it got with Vegeta. "I'm...glad you like it."

“I’ll protect you,” the Prince growled in a rough and coarse voice, through gritted teeth, not looking at Bulma, but instead at his brand-new suit of armor she’d made him. “Frieza won’t _live_ to see another sunset. He thinks he can take _my_ mate from me, he’s _wrong_. After the misery he’s caused, the _lives_ he’s ruined, planets he’s purged and lain waste to, the miserable wretched cretin doesn’t deserve to live. I don’t care if it _kills_ me, _I’m_ going to kill him. I won’t have _you_ anywhere _near_ him. The deal’s _off_.”

Bulma nodded slowly, already dreading where this conversation was going. She knew Vegeta had a score of his own to settle with Frieza, just as Goku did. Just as she did, but it wasn’t a topic that was open for discussion. She was _going_ to do this.

And goddamn anyone, her future husband included, who tried to stop her from doing it, then.

“I _appreciate_ your concern for my well-being, Prince, but if I recall, this ‘deal’ as you call it exists solely between me and your father, Vegeta. _You_ weren’t part of the decision, so therefore you don’t get a say in what I choose to do. This is my choice. I will be just fine. If something happens to me, Goku can use the Dragon Balls to wish me back. I’m gonna be just _fine_ , this topic is no longer for debate. That lizard _freak_ is expecting me on his stupid spaceship day after tomorrow,” she snapped in a cold and clipped tone, hardening her voice in response to Vegeta’s sudden aggression and shift in his attitude.

Nothing was going to make her change her mind. They didn’t need to discuss this any further. It was happening, whether or not Vegeta liked it. She felt bad enough as it was already, she’d been of very little help to the others back on Namek.

Vegeta merely shot her a withering look and grunted in response, keeping his arms folded across his chest as he finally turned his head to look at her.

“Did you mean to leave the door open, Bulma? Did you _want_ for me to find you down here?” the Prince of All Saiyans wondered with a frown as he glanced over at his mate. “Are you well?” he asked, furrowing his dark brows at the beads of sweat that started glittering down her face.

“Uh…” Bulma looked towards the door and then turned back towards Prince Vegeta, who was scowling at her with that strange emotion she wasn’t sure what it was in his black narrowed eyes. She didn’t remember leaving the damn door open, but Bulma figured considering Vegeta had found her, it didn’t much matter whether or not it was open. “Um, I don’t…I don’t know. Wh—what is it, Vegeta?”

Vegeta frowned and looked down at the ground as he slowly approached where Bulma sat on the sofa, not looking at her until he’d joined her, sitting somewhat stiffly and awkward alongside her.

“I have something for you, your father told me you _humans_ wear these things when you marry,” he grumbled, sounding thoroughly disgruntled as he dug into the pockets of his khaki pants that Bulma had loaned him from her dad’s closet and procured a small box, practically shoving it into her hands. “Open it,” he said in his typically rough and slightly scratchy tone. Bulma already knew what it was, she suspected, though she was more than a little surprised that Vegeta would want to wear rings.

It didn’t stop her lips from hanging open slightly in disbelief. If there were many things the Prince of the Saiyan race would do to impress her, handing over a box containing their wedding rings, much less expressing an interest that he wanted to wear his, was never an option. It almost looked too funny a gift coming from the prideful Saiyan warrior. He shoved the box further into her hands, but Bulma was too dumbfounded to lift a finger.

“Uh….you _really_ want to wear these?” she questioned, quirking a thin blue eyebrow at the Saiyan Prince, who merely grunted in response as she flicked open the box with her finger and let out a tiny gasp at seeing the plain but still eloquent royal blue and black matching wedding bands, a thick tungsten band for Vegeta and a smaller, 3mm band for her. No diamonds or gemstones to get caught on anything while she was working in the lab. _Perfect_.

“Yes,” Vegeta answered in his gruff voice, though he was sounding confused at her skepticism. “If these rings are what’s required of your customs to mark you as _mine_ , I want no other man to look at you and think you’re _available_ ,” he spat bitterly. “This _is_ one of your Earth customs, Woman, isn’t it?” he asked, feeling his face start to flush in embarrassment, hoping Bulma’s father hadn’t lied in order to make him feel even further the fool for it.

“No, no, it is!” Bulma exclaimed, sensing the sour look on Vegeta’s face as she quickly pulled the rings out of the boxes. “They’re beautiful, Geta…”

Bulma swallowed as she shifted the rings in her palms, feeling their weight, trying to brave Vegeta’s scalding stare as he studied her in silence.

“Do you like them?” he asked in a low voice.

“Yes.”

Bulma heard Vegeta sniff as he scratched at the stubble near his jaw as she looked up, thinking he was going to have to shave tomorrow before their wedding. She didn’t wait to slide her plain royal blue and black wedding band onto her left ring finger, holding her hand out in front of her to examine it.

“Well?” she asked in a slightly teasing lilt as she caught a glimpse of Vegeta’s impassive expression out of the corner of her gaze. “How does it look?” she pressed, wanting to hear his answer.

Vegeta paused, wracking his brain for an answer. There were many answers he could give his mate.

He wet his lips and awkwardly cleared his throat. His Woman caught a glimpse of him, the uneasiness that made the darkness of his black eyes almost glint and sparkle, even in the dim light of Bulma’s workshop. Even with his growing two-day stubble along his jawline and the few scars on his cheeks, old battle wounds, Vegeta was still handsome, hardened by the grim shadow of a dark past, but hopefully now that Bulma was to be his wife, she could help him recover, slowly but surely.

He hesitated, lifting his surprisingly warm hands to her cold cheeks. The pads of his hands were rough and calloused, and yet startlingly gentle.

In the end, that damned feeble quivering muscle within his chest answered for Vegeta.

“You look good wearing my future, Woman.”

Bulma sucked in a sharp breath at his words, her eyes locking on his, seeing the seriousness in his black eyes that she had previously been led to believe held no emotion within them. Her body trembled when his fingers moved to caress her left ring finger, the pad of his thumb ghosted over her black and royal blue plain wedding band she was technically supposed to hold off wearing until tomorrow evening when it was official, but she couldn’t help it. No one had ever spoken to her like that.

_Yamcha_ never said anything like this before.

“Hey, _genius_ , this is the part where you’re supposed to kiss me,” Bulma breathed as he moved over her, his eyes locking onto hers, unwavering.

Vegeta offered no taunting smirk, no laugh or sneer. He was far too wrapped in his own hot tightness as his hands wandered lower and almost effortlessly slid off Bulma’s jeans and panties, the knowledge that tomorrow, his mate would officially become his and no one else’s. He was throbbing with need. He wanted both right now. He wanted to kiss her and to fill her at the same time, to feel her warmth.

He shifted them and then moving so that Bulma sat straddling his lap while she worked with shaking fingers to remove his borrowed sweater. Now that his Woman was fully naked as she shrugged out of her shirt and bra, he only had to worry about himself. Vegeta struggled with the zipper of these borrowed khaki pants but did not want to take her mouth from his as he growled into their kiss. Bulma struggled to move, but she grabbed at the waistband of his pants with her hands.

Vegeta, letting his animalistic instinct take over, bit down hard and Bulma let out a pained yelp, but the taste of her blood both excited and frightened him.

Vegeta did not want to hurt Bulma, but the taste of her blood was sweet like mo, well, metamorphically speaking. Bulma lowered herself to him as she brought herself down on his hard erection. “Vegeta,” she breathed against his mouth.

She was ready for him, already warm. Vegeta let out a guttural groan, pressing his face to hers, gripping onto strands of her short blue hair tightly, and pressed her face to his. Vegeta was overcome. Bulma belonged to _him_. Her entire self, her being was his possession, and he did not think he could adequately express this to her through words.

She was _his_ mate. His…his _love_. Vegeta panted, feeling himself begin to sweat and she did the same, the blood from where he’d bit her drying against his lips, still tingling and still tasted sweet.

There was a pressure in Bulma’s lower abdomen, a pressure she had never felt before, but mingled with it was the same type of blind affection she felt whenever she looked at the Saiyan Prince. Her moan was swallowed by the Prince’s mouth as Vegeta pressed his lips against hers, his thrusts increasing, and she writhed underneath him.

The pain came and went from how rough he was with her in his movements. Bulma tried to meet his thrusts. She was in control of herself to know she didn’t want to give her groom reason to tease her mercilessly about not being able to handle him afterward. She was doing her hardest to make sure Vegeta enjoyed himself, as much time as the two of them were granted before Frieza sought to rip them apart. It felt like Vegeta was trying to consume her. His kisses were hard, desperate, and unyielding.

He made sure not to hurt her this time and Bulma moaned in response to his surprisingly gentle movements. He swallowed his Woman’s guttural moan and wound his free hand around her middle, pressing her supple breasts to his scarred chest.

Bulma groaned and writhed, and his entire body stiffened in both want and desire, not sure how much longer he could manage to restrain himself. The feeling of her lips pressed against his, the smooth soft swell of her breasts, and her entire being surrounding Vegeta had him seeing blinding white light behind his scrunched closed eyelids.

His thumb deftly stroked the column of her throat, his fingers purposefully lingering over the two little pinpricks, the only evidence of his mark. Vegeta hissed in a breath as his chest hummed as Bulma’s slender fingers worked through his jet black hair and he felt utterly overwhelmed.

Pleasure, pain, disgust, and desire. It all mingled inside of them both. Tears pressed at the edges of her eyelids as Vegeta kissed Bulma, as he felt the smooth skin, and she felt his dozens of scars. What might have Vegeta been like, she wondered, if Vegeta had not known such cruelty?

It almost made Bulma want to weep for him. Instead, she moaned and let out tiny little whines. She felt Vegeta’s mouth twist into a smile against her lips.

“ _Sing_ for me, Woman,” he breathed against her mouth. Bulma figured Prince Vegeta would laugh at her to himself later when he was by himself later, but at his encouragement, at hearing the desperate urging in his voice, her cries increased.

When he had spent himself inside of her, growling her name with a hoarse moan, he didn’t pull out right away, instead hovered on top of his Woman, panting and sweating, Vegeta looked at her. Bulma looked like he imagined he must look.

Disheveled, her eyes half-lidded, as though she had just experienced ecstasy, her blue eyes clouded with a faraway look. But as Vegeta looked at his mate, he was struck by something. This feeling of warmth deep inside of him, this feeling he couldn’t explain, he liked it. Craved it like an intoxicating drug. He truly liked this.

Looking at his Woman, seeing Bulma, gave Vegeta a sense of peace…

_Happiness_. Feelings that had never been available to him before. Vegeta tilted his head as he lifted himself up to look at her, bracing his weight with his arms. _Beautiful_ , Vegeta thought, perfect, not bothering to vocalize his thoughts, knowing Bulma could read his mind now that they were bonded. _Mine. Just… mine. No one else’s. Mine._

He said it over and over again in his head like a mantra. It was the only word that came to mind as Prince Vegeta looked at Bulma. This feeling so heavily rooted within him, consuming him wholly.

Vegeta wished he had another word for it. That same word kept repeating itself over and over again until he could think of nothing else.

_Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine_. He leaned down and placed his mouth to hers, letting her fill him. He was glad to have marked her as his mate, though he knew nothing would compare to the secret ecstasy he would feel tomorrow when he took his Woman again, but not just as his mate.

But as his wife.


End file.
